


Hard Sought

by Kaibutsu_of_Shinjuku (Lightningpelt)



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Disabled Character, Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Reunions, Trauma, not gonna lie, wheelchair!izaya is adorable tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6492802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Kaibutsu_of_Shinjuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>SPOILERS through "The Sunset with Izaya Orihara" </strong> </p>
<p>The way he was casually forcing his way back into Izaya's life was both infuriating and befuddling, but the information broker couldn't bring himself to put up more than a token resistance.<br/>He was in no condition, after all, to rekindle their fight to the death, and Shizuo Heiwajima's motivations remained, as they were, unclear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Break

**Author's Note:**

> The Shizaya!Muse is strong right now.  
> This takes place sometime after _Orihara Izaya to Yuuyake wo_ , though that being said I haven't actually read "The Sunset Novel," as some call it. I've read up on some spoilers, but not the novel itself (though I really hope to at some point). That being said, some things (most notably "the boy (what even is his name?)") will be glossed over in this, and some things might not be consistent. For that, I beg apologies. 
> 
> With that said, I hope you enjoy the fic! I certainly know I enjoyed writing it~ It'll probably be three or four chapters, if you're wondering.

There was a knocking at the door. 

Izaya Orihara was far more stationary than he once had been—then he had ever been, for that matter. He had his own lazy streak, of course, but his current immobility wasn't a worsening of that streak. 

The knocking persisted. 

"Coming, coming!" the information broker called tiredly, then grit his teeth as he forced his shoulders to move. He wished there was someone there to push his damn chair—it wasn't a case of entitlement, in that moment, but a case of practicality. He could shout _"Coming!"_ until his throat was as sore as the rest of his body and it would still take a matter of minutes for him to actually make it to the door. 

The knocking stopped. 

Izaya sighed in mild relief; one less pressure to make it to the door in a timely fashion. Hissing softly in pain, he turned the wheels of his wheelchair with an effort. 

The knocking came again. 

"Coming, I said!" Izaya had to fight to keep his voice cordial in his struggle. But if it was a client at the door, it wouldn't do to have him voicing his pain or cursing at them. 

The knocking paused. 

Izaya grabbed for his phone as he felt it start to slip off his lap, cursing under his breath as it hit the floor despite his efforts. It clattered across the ground and out of reach, and he let his head drop back in frustration. 

"Just a minute!" he called to the visitor, then leaned precariously forward. His fingers grasped at the air inches from his phone, and he gave a rueful chuckle. 

_Pitiful._

_Shizu-chan did this to me._

A day rarely passed—a mere hour rarely passed—without the blonde crossing Izaya's mind in some way. Heiwajima Shizu-chan was the ghost that haunted every moment of his life, and Izaya often wondered if he _wanted_ to be freed. He had accepted this damned disability—wasn't that enough reminder? 

And yet. 

The knock came again, more insisting this time. And Izaya, still struggling to reach his phone, felt his temper rise. 

"I said just a—waah!!" he began to snap, then yelped with alarm as he bent a bit too far forward. His cry ended abruptly as his head hit the ground, teeth clacking painfully together and vision going blurry for a moment. Then, upside-down with his wheelchair rolling casually backwards—a byproduct of his own momentum _forwards_ —he whimpered slightly with frustration. 

_Pitiful,_ he thought again, letting his body slouch until he was resting less on his head and more on his side. He could feel tears pricking at the insides of his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't cry—he couldn't cry, not even if he had wanted to. So he just lay there, chuckling bitterly under his breath and dwelling on the waves of dull pain throbbing through his vividly fragile body. 

There was the crack of wood. 

_Oh hell..._ Izaya thought, unsure whether to he humiliated or grateful that his visitor was breaking in. On the one hand, he had _never_ been caught so vulnerable by a client. On the other, he probably lacked the strength—if not the motivation—to get back into his chair unassisted. 

The purposeful footsteps paused in the doorway. 

"Aah..." Izaya said with a chuckle, forcing his voice to be jovial, "I am very sorry, I just seem to have fallen. Thank you for taking the liberty of letting yourself in." He got one hand underneath him, but his shoulder was weak and screamed protest as he tried to get some leverage to raise his head. 

The visitor didn't respond. Izaya felt a pang of concern; perhaps it wasn't a client after all. The information broker attempted to twist himself on the floor to see who it was, more urgent in his movements now, but the footsteps resumed and approached before he could. Izaya's heart quickened and he tried again to move his unwilling body, but suddenly there were hands on him. 

Strong, recognizable hands. 

"No..." Izaya choked softly; he went limp as those hands lifted him effortlessly. He was like a doll in those hands—a broken doll who had escaped the garbage by hiding beneath the bed, wallowing in its own continued existence amid pain and solitude. 

He was like a doll—a broken doll whose child had found it again. 

To Izaya's surprise, he wasn't crushed or thrown through the window or even bruised; instead he was set back in his wheelchair, and from there he was free to gaze up at the face of the child who had broken him. His bones themselves, clothed in meager flesh, began to shake. 

"Hey." That was his greeting. After nearly a year, that was his greeting. It brought a week smile to Izaya's face. 

"Hey. What brings the monster of Ikebukuro all the way to Mito?" 

"This and that," the blonde replied noncommittally, seating himself in a loosely cross-legged position. Izaya's eyebrows arched as he found himself looking _down_ at the other. 

"I don't believe that, Shizu-chan." 

Shizuo reached out and grabbed the wheelchair by it's spokes, giving it a hard shake. But the terror that flooded Izaya as he clutched at the armrests was unwarranted; Shizuo released it almost immediately, not even breaking but only slightly crimping the metal he had seized. 

"You've gotten sharper, then," Izaya breathed, when it became obvious Shizuo was waiting for him to speak. "You used to swallow my lies like candy." 

"Not _that_ eagerly," Shizuo argued mildly, not the response Izaya had expected. Then the blonde stood, brushing himself off. "Speaking of, I'm starving. Where's your kitchen?" 

Izaya, bewildered, pointed. 

"Thanks." The blonde vanished in the indicated direction, but called back a moment later, "Shit, this is pathetic!" 

"Sorry!" Izaya called back weakly. "I honestly wasn't expecting company!" 

Shizuo grumbled something unintelligible, then returned with three half-finished cartons of delivery food. Izaya cringed slightly at the indignity of his current state of affairs. The blonde took his seat again at the foot of Izaya's wheelchair, then dug in with a pair if disposable chopsticks. 

Izaya watched him for a moment, leftover fear reverberating through his sinew and blood. But Shizuo wasn't acting threateningly; on the contrary, he was almost docile. The way he was attacking the slightly stale rice might have been ferocious, but it wasn't threatening in the slightest. 

"... Hungry?" Izaya asked finally, just to say anything. 

Shizuo nodded. "Ran outta money somewhere in Tochigi," he mumbled, and Izaya started. 

"In Tochigi?" 

"Yeah." But Shizuo didn't elaborate, and Izaya didn't press him. 

Once the styrofoam was licked clean, Shizuo once again stood. He went to Izaya's desk; rooted around for a moment while the informant watched nervously, then held up a credit card. 

"This one okay to use?" 

Izaya nodded dumbly. 

"Cool. I'll be back. Got a spare key?" Shizuo tilted his head. "Breaking in'll get real old, real fast." 

Izaya didn't, but he said, "Take mine. I'm certainly not going anywhere." 

"Cool," Shizuo acknowledged, then waved as he strode off toward the front door. Izaya almost called after him, but couldn't decide what he wanted to say before the door shut with a soft click.

... ... ... 

The apartment was silent as Izaya browsed deftly through areas of the web he hadn't been on in months. All he found were rumors—and rumors that didn't do much except support what he already suspected.

It viscerally hurt to browse through some of the old chats and forums; he flinched every time he recognized a screen-name. But he pressed ahead for the sake of a clue—and found precious little for his trouble. 

" _Blonde Beast of Ikebukuro: Gone for Good?_ " asked a tabloid headline, written by Haruna's father. 

Izaya sighed, scratching his head thoughtfully. A couple of comments from Tom's online alias confirmed that Shizuo wasn't working for him anymore—it seemed like life had gotten harder for him, but he could also be seen to jumping to his kohai's defense in several posts. Shinra's recognizable "KishiKissu" had revealed to Anri's "Saika" that Shizuo hadn't come to see him for any reason; he had gone on to claim—although Izaya knew he couldn't be taken absolutely at his word—that he didn't have a clue about Shizuo's whereabouts. Setton didn't seem to have chimed in anywhere. 

Izaya wondered if Tanaka Taro, too, had nothing to say... or if he had simply abandoned that moniker. 

Almost an hour later, the door opened. Izaya didn't bother to get off his laptop, although he did feel his whole body tense to the point of pain in his sore muscles. Shizuo appeared briefly, but he was only passing through on his way into the kitchen. 

Izaya stared after him; then, after a heartbeat, he called, "Welcome back!" 

And Shizuo, flip as anything, replied, "I'm back." 

Izaya blinked, then gave a breathy chuckle and returned to his computer. But he had given up on finding information on his unexpected guest, at least for the time being, so he turned his attention to work instead. Soon the robust scents of cooking meat filled the small apartment, but Izaya was unmoved by hunger or curiosity. 

Half an hour later, Shizuo emerged with a plate in hand. Looking around briefly, he scowled before sitting down on the floor once more. 

"Invest in a chair or two." 

"I hardly have any need," Izaya replied, but Shizuo didn't bite. 

"Fine. I'll go out and buy one tomorrow." 

Izaya's brows knit, but something kept him from raising an objection; perhaps it was fear. He watched as Shizuo devoured what was on his plate, got up for seconds, then settled in to eat them more leisurely with his phone in one hand. 

"What'cha doing?" Izaya asked, simply to ask anything. Shizuo grunted. 

"Texting." 

"Who?" 

"None of your business." 

Izaya stiffened, the hair on the back of his neck rising with indignation and unease. "It's my house, Shizu-chan. Who are you texting?" 

But Shizuo didn't bite. "None'a your damn business," he grumbled through a mouthful of food, then swallowed noisily. 

Izaya grinned weakly, unable to summon a threat that wouldn't be entirely groundless. But he did make a mental note to have a look at Shizuo's phone as soon as he could manage—if he could manage. 

They sat in silence for the larger part of the evening, Shizuo picking at his food and tapping away at his phone, Izaya busy on his computer. The air crackled occasionally, but not as much as it arguably should have. 

Eventually Shizuo rose, stretched luxuriously, and retreated to the kitchen. There was the clatter of dishes and the running of water; the opening and slamming of the refrigerator door. Then, "Oi! Izaya!" 

Izaya felt his whole body go cold, his chest aching with heaviness as his heart stopped for one beat—two. Then he gasped, jolting back to himself with a agonizing ripple of nervous tissue. 

Shizuo continued, oblivious. "My damn eyes were bigger than my stomach, so there's leftovers if you want any. Eat 'em, I guess." 

"O-Okay..." Izaya managed, but an uncontrollable shaking had seized him. 

_Fear..._

"Izaya?" Shizuo drove the knife in deeper, poking his head around the corner. But when the named didn't reply—didn't respond in any way—he shrugged and vanished into the bedroom. Izaya watched him go with hooded, haunted eyes, and flinched when his voice came again. "Spare blankets are in here? I'll sleep on the floor tonight." 

"You take the bed." Izaya wasn't sure why he said it; there was no strategy about the words. 

"You sure?" Shizuo asked, and Izaya nodded for the empty room. 

"Yeah. It's so troublesome to get in and out of I usually sleep in the chair, anyway." He didn't want pity; he didn't want to appear weak. But it was the simple truth, and he lacked the motivation to hide it.

Shizuo's only response was a largely emotionless, "Got it."

... ... ... 

While Shizuo hadn't left his phone within easy reach, he had abandoned his backpack in a corner of the living room. After peering into the bedroom and finding the beast snoring softly, Izaya decided to investigate.

Dumping it out would be the most efficient way of doing things, but it was an altogether bad idea; it was too unlikely he wouldn't be able to get everything back in. So he wheeled himself over to his desk, backpack on his lap. 

He wanted sleep desperately, but he doubted that would even be possible. 

Two sets of clothes; a spare pair of shoes with holes in the bottom; a phone charger; an empty wallet; two pens and one broken pen shell; a battered toothbrush that Izaya wanted nothing to do with; a crumpled and partially torn up map, covered with lines and x's and tick-marks centered around the Kanto region. The contents of Shizuo's backpack presented a surprising scenario, and Izaya found himself toying with the map as he considered it. 

_"Ran outta money somewhere in Tochigi._

Tochigi had a hole about the diameter of a pen through it. 

"... Huh." 

With an effort, he replaced everything in the bag and returned it to the corner. Then, more out of obligation than anything, he wheeled himself into the kitchen. 

_...Diner..._ To say that Shizuo had made too much would have been to understate the situation. But Izaya didn't want to eat any of it; leaning halfway into the refrigerator, he forced himself to swallow a few chopstick-fulls for duty's sake. 

He remembered when food had delighted him; he had enjoyed eating immensely, and eaten out often. He still caught a trace of that feeling whenever he ate otoro—the first few bites were vaguely colorful on his tongue, and he would often catch himself humming and closing his eyes with faint bliss. But within a few pieces even that would lose its allure, and that was the most bitterly disappointing feeling. 

Closing the refrigerator again with a soft sigh, Izaya turned and made his slow way back into the living room. He briefly considered checking on Shizuo, but dismissed that as a very bad idea. 

_Well... it'll be interesting when the boy shows up tomorrow morning..._ Izaya thought, then settled in at his desk. But after a few hours of attempting to do business, he drifted into an unsettled but deep, exhausted sleep.


	2. Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, _THANK YOU_ for all for the lovely comments on the last chapter! Q^Q I hope I can live up to your high praise and expectations! /bows 
> 
> So here's the new chapter, featuring an old friend and a _second_ broken door courtesy of Shizuo Heiwajima. 
> 
> ALSO did you guys know that there's a [Shizaya Week](http://shizaya-week.tumblr.com/) going on over on tumblr, starting the 13th?? I, for one, am exceptionally excited. 10/10 will be participating, super stoked. I'll try not to let it get in the way of updates for this fic, but do expect some oneshots and the like for that. <3 
> 
> Note: Daiginjo is a higher quality/more expensive grade of sake. [[X](http://drinks.seriouseats.com/2011/04/sake-what-is-ginjo-what-is-daiginjo-how-sake-is-made.html)]

Izaya bolted awake to a room flooded with sunlight. Chest heaving with disoriented panic, he groped for his phone. 

"Morning, Izaya." 

The voice made Izaya _scream_ , his whole body jerking unconsciously back and unbalancing his wheelchair. That same voice rose in an alarmed shout, even as Izaya scrabbled briefly at his desk and lost the battle, crashing backwards in a heap of tangled limbs and metal. 

Almost instantly Shizuo was there, a mutter of, "Goddamnit, Izaya...! Stupid flea...!" on his lips. 

"D-Don't—!" Izaya tried to object, then shrieked, "Don't touch me!" 

But Shizuo didn't obey. He kicked the wheelchair with a violent rattle to right it, then picked up the broken body that had fallen from it and placed it back in the seat. Izaya was shaking uncontrollably, terror making it impossible to breathe properly. Shizuo, once he made sure Izaya was solidly in his wheelchair, backed slowly away. 

"Didn't mean to startle you," he grunted, then paced off to the kitchen. Izaya stared after him with wide, glassy eyes; fought to reclaim scraps of his rational. 

_What the_ hell _just happened...?!_

Slowly bits and pieces of the previous day fell into place—right, Shizuo had appeared out of nowhere and now seemed to be casually forcing his way back into Izaya's life. Yet he hadn't snapped, not once... nor so much as raised his voice. 

_That... map..._

It was altogether too confusing to mull over at such an early hour. 

The house smelled like bacon. _Bacon_. 

_Well... the boy should be here soon..._ Izaya thought resignedly. _I'll have him do some_ leg _work for me and—_

"Some kid stopped by this morning," Shizuo called suddenly, and Izaya stiffened. "I told him to take the week off. Paid vacation, I told him, and gave him one of your bank cards. Hope you don't mind." 

Izaya began, slowly, to bristle. "... Hope... I don't... mind...?" he asked in disbelief, but began to shake again as the truth of the situation sunk in. _I'm alone... alone with Shizuo... at the mercy of—_

"There're some eggs and bacon on stove if you want," Shizuo said, pacing back into the living room with a place piled high with the aforementioned foods. He sat once again on the floor—having yet to make good on his threat to buy a chair or two—and dug in enthusiastically. 

"You don't have the right to tell my help when they can take a vacation," Izaya said at last, trying to sound sore. "If you—" 

"Are you gonna take me up on that?" Shizuo cut him off to ask, his mouth full. "I'm gonna finish it if you aren't." 

"Finish it!" Izaya snapped, his face twisting in something slightly more uncertain than anger. "You bought it! With my money, you know, but you still bought it! I don't want you in my house _or_ your food in my stomach!" 

Shizuo regarded him levelly, even as Izaya began to regret his possibly provocative words. But the blonde only stood after a moment, returning with his empty plate to the kitchen. 

"I'm going out shopping for some things," he called back, and Izaya swallowed the objection that tried to crawl up his throat. 

"Do what you want, Shizu-chan."

... ... ... 

Izaya considered his options.

There weren't many of them, not at all. 

The number of people he trusted was few and precious—the boy was one, but in a purely functional way. The couple of clients he would consider calling were out of the question for various reasons. 

There was one final route he could take—one last ditch attempt at gathering usable information. 

"Hiiiii! You've reached Shinra Kishitani! If that's who you were trying for—congratulations! You've missed me! I'm probably spending quality time with the love of my life, so don't be _that person_ and call fifteen times in an attempt to get through! Just leave a message instead and I _promise_ , on my _honor_ , I'll get back to you just as soon as humanly—or inhumanly!—possible! Thanks! 

"(If this is a 911-worthy emergency, please try your call again.)" 

Izaya smiled a twisted smile. "I was going to ask 'What about those poor clients who've put their faith in you as a doctor?'" he began, then sighed softly, "but I see you do care after all, you heartless bastard. 

"Now listen—I want to know why Shizu-chan showed up at my door yesterday, and I want to know it as soon as you're done with whatever impure deed you're currently engaged in. Got it? And don't you dare tell anyone about this call—I'll _know_ , and I swear I'll track you down and have you castrated. Now that would be a shame, wouldn't it?" 

He wondered if his voice was shaking, or if that was just his body. 

"Call me back, Shinra." 

He had half a mind to listen to the message over again, but knew he would lose his nerve if he did. So he braced himself and hit send, then slouched back in his chair slightly. 

He didn't expect exhaustion to creep up on him, but within a few minutes he was dozing off in a fitful daze.

... ... ... 

The ringing of his phone woke Izaya up.

Groggily, he caught the thing just before it slipped off his lap and skittered out of reach. The number wasn't in his directory, but he recognized it nonetheless. 

Shizuo clearly wasn't back yet. 

"It's about time," was his greeting, and he received silence for his trouble. "Hey. Hello?" 

"... Izaya. He really did find you...!" 

Shinra sounded like he was smiling, and that startled Izaya. Before he could gather himself, the doctor spoke again. 

"I'm so happy to hear your voice, Izaya...! I'm so glad you called." 

Izaya sat for a moment, dumbfounded, then chuckled. "Don't go overboard," he said, forcing a light-hearted tone. "I just want some info. I didn't call to rekindle our decrepit friendship or anything like that." 

"Doesn't matter," was Shinra's unaffected reply, and Izaya's brow furrowed. "You called. You called, Izaya...!" 

"I called, I called," Izaya relented, then shook his head. "Now are you going to help me out or not?" 

"I don't know why Shizuo decided to go looking for you," Shinra answered promptly, much to Izaya's surprise. "I'm fairly certain he told Celty more, but I never pressed her for details. I got a farewell, but that was about it." 

"... No clues?" Izaya asked, not particularly trying to hide his disappointment. 

"He was a lot more unstable leading up to when he left," Shinra offered, and Izaya sat up a bit straighter. "Not only was he snapping more and more often, but the damage he was causing was getting worse and worse—to people and property." 

Izaya shivered. 

"But the fact that you're still alive is a good sign!" Shinra chirped, unbothered. "I don't profess to know what it means, but at least he didn't go charging off to finish the job! I was a bit scared of that, to be honest, but Celty seemed to think otherwise. Like I said, I think he confided in her more than anyone, before he left." 

"Could you... try to get some details out of her?" Izaya asked, though a bit reluctant to ask that of the doctor. "I'd really rather you didn't tell her about my calling, though." 

"I'll see what I can do!" Shinra pledged, and Izaya let out a pent up breath. He tensed again, though, when the doctor followed up with, "On one condition!" 

"... What's that?" 

"Tell me how you've been, Izaya!" 

Izaya blinked, surprised yet again. And yet, almost automatically, he complied.

... ... ... 

Shizuo Heiwajima returned hours later, hauling with him chairs and a dining room table and a new futon and bags upon bags of groceries. Izaya had finished his call to Shinra not half an hour earlier, and gave silent thanks that Shizuo hadn't turned up just that much sooner—he had been so wrapped up in the conversation he doubted he would have noticed the blonde's entrance.

His senses, besides, were much duller than they had once been. 

"I'm back." 

"Welcome back," Izaya said—an obligatory response for politeness' sake. Shizuo didn't react other than to swing the huge, comfortable-looking chair down from his shoulder. "Going to remodel my house to suit your needs, is that it?" 

"Yep," was the reply he got, and it made his face scrunch. 

"Now Shizu-chan, I'm not sure—" 

The new dining room table was slammed down with surprising force, and Izaya cringed. Shizuo's eyes were flashing with a very familiar rage, but it died down almost as soon as Izaya recognize it. 

"I'm gonna stay a while," the blonde grunted, then positioned three dining room chairs with more control. One side of the square table was left empty. "That's the least consideration you owe me." 

" _I_ owe _you_?" Izaya echoed disbelievingly, although his limbs were vibrating. _Is this fear...? Is this anger...? What... is... this...?_ " _You_ owe _me_ , Shizu-chan, a proper fight to the death. You won our last, and yet somehow I'm still alive." 

Izaya's heart was racing—his head was light, as if he had drunk a bit too much daiginjo. But he kept speaking. 

"Do you know what that means—to lose a fight to the death and be left alive? Of course you don't. You owe me a proper match, beast, and that's something you've made impossible! This is the best I can do—this, I've accepted _this_ to _try_ to give you what you're due, and for what? So that you can storm into my house and demand something that _I_ owe _you_? You're as unintelligent as ever!" 

But even in the silence that followed Izaya's words—the trembling silence, as if something was in danger of falling from a great height—Shizuo didn't rise to meet the challenge. He held Izaya's gaze, shoulders squared and eyes flashing, for just as long as it might have taken for him to fly into a rage. But then he blinked; looked away, but not at all in an abashed way. Instead he turned and dragged the futon off into the bedroom, then returned for the groceries. 

"I'm gonna make dinner. Can't guarantee there'll be leftovers, but you're welcome to 'em if there are." 

Izaya watched with a slack jaw as Shizuo vanished into the kitchen, and was surprised to find tears stinging persistently at the backs of his eyes. It was the closest he'd come to speaking the truth about his state of affairs, even if it had been hasty and not quite right, and Shizuo had ignored it. 

_Does our battle mean that little to him...?!_ the information broker thought violently, then stifled a soft cry in the back of his throat. _But then why...?!_

With little reason behind the action but no other apparent choice, Izaya wheeled himself into his bedroom—to the bed that Shizuo had inhabited the night before. His sheets smelled like cigarettes, but he couldn't bring himself to be disgusted as he crawled—a practiced, careful maneuver, but an awkward-looking crawl nonetheless—into the bed and buried his face in that scent. 

_Shizu-chan..._

He loved the beast—he had always loved Shizuo Heiwajima, although only recently had he begun to come to terms with it. And the thought that haunted his mind more often than he would have liked was, _To die at the hands of a loved one would have been less painful than this._

He couldn't say it would have been better—to say that anything was better than his current mortal existence would have been the highest form of hypocrisy, and he did not wish to die. 

But he could say with fair certainty that it would have been less painful, and for that fact he felt cheated by one Shizuo Heiwajima, the man he loved.

... ... ... 

Izaya woke to the sound of another person's breath.

Alarmed, the information broker sat up as sharply as his weak back would allow. But Shizuo was a good five meters away, back turned on his own new futon. If his soft snoring was anything to go by, he was sound asleep. 

_And I know just how deep a sleeper you are, Shizu-chan,_ Izaya thought, with some small satisfaction. _I know everything about you, my dear monster._

So Izaya, feeling surprisingly rested, heaved himself out of the bed and back into his chair with a soft clatter of metal. He paused by the sleeping figure; saw, in the dim light filtering in down he hallway, that the roots of his hair were less than blonde—more of a sod-hued brown. Besides that, the man's jawline was sharp even in the perfect relaxation of sleep. It wasn't, then, hard-set, but simply leaner than Izaya remembered it to be. Shaking his head slowly, the information broker turned away and carried on down the hallway, trying not to overthink his observations. He knew logically that locking his bathroom door would do exactly zero good, but it still made him feel a bit more secure as he prepared to bathe. 

His bones ached—hot water, he was fairly certain, would help. 

The idea of drowning frightened Izaya, but not badly enough for him to install any sorts of fail-safes on his bath. If he was so weak as to drown, that too would be payment for his loss to Shizuo. He had, however, gotten himself a very nice easy-access tub, and slipped from his wheelchair onto the heated seat within it. He also felt no hesitation in dumping exceedingly expensive oils into the water as it filled the bath, and reveled in the aromas that banished the lingering smokey scent that had followed him from the bedroom. 

"Aaah..." Izaya allowed himself an indulgent sigh as he sank back into the water, head tilting back to rest on a cushioned ledge. He cleaned himself slowly—languidly. He let himself enjoy it, the pleasure clear in each of the curves on his face. 

Getting out—after an hour or so—and getting himself dry was a bit more of an arduous task. But he took his time, laying out a towel and double-checking the brakes on his wheelchair before hefting himself back into it. He dried himself with a plush towel, then dressed in a robe two sizes too big. 

Shizuo was still sound asleep when he wheeled back into his bedroom, but Izaya hardly felt like following his example. So he continued on through the living room—now filled with twice as much furniture as before—and into the kitchen. He found, once again, the evidence of Shizuo's overzealous cooking, and nibbled at some leftovers absentmindedly. The beast was a good cook, he admitted to himself reluctantly, and wondered idly how Namie was getting on. _I wonder who she cooks for now... if anyone._

 _I... wonder..._

Restless and bored, Izaya wheeled himself through the crowded living room and over to his small balcony, wrestling briefly with the sliding door. The night air was cool as it rushed in around him, and smelt vaguely of the sea. Izaya pondered offhandedly how long it would take for the landlady to complain—there was no trace of cigarette smoke where he was, so Shizuo must have been smoking on the front balcony, which was distinctly against apartment policy. 

_Why did I even... take_ notice _of the rules on smoking...?_

Though in an introspective mood, Izaya shoved _that_ horrible question out of his mind. Instead he focused on the feel and scent of the air around him, and gazed up at the sky that was lit from below by the city's lights. It was sparsely clouded, and so reflected those fluorescents even more brilliantly than normal. The moon was nowhere to be seen. 

The rattle of the sliding door shoved roughly through its track made Izaya stiffen, his heart jumping uncomfortably high up in his rib cage. In the next moment Shizuo Heiwajima entered his field of vision, hair tousled with sleep, and stooped to lean forward on the balcony's railing. 

There was a beat—then two—of silence, and then Izaya spoke slowly. "Did I... wake you?" 

"I could throw you over this balcony, you know," Shizuo said, ignoring Izaya's question. Fear made the information broker's muscles seize up, but he felt no desire to flee. 

"Yeah, I know." 

Shizuo tipped his head back, then pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "Do you mind? Pretty sure I'm downwind anyway." 

"Go right ahead, Shizu-chan." 

While Shizuo lit his cigarette, Izaya let his eyes wander up and down his nemesis' frame. Muscled but improbably lean, he hadn't changed in any notable ways. Even the way he dragged at his cigarette was familiar, and Izaya felt an ache appear somewhere deep inside his chest. 

"Would that satisfy what you were talking about earlier?" 

Izaya's eyebrows rose. "What?" 

"That _shit_ you were spouting," Shizuo growled, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. "That 'fight to the death' bullshit. If I threw you off this damn balcony, would that do it for you?" 

Izaya's pulse quickened, eyes widening involuntarily as he contemplated what was being presented to him. He didn't want to die—if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that. But it was _he_ who had posed the questions earlier, and Shizuo was simply proposing an answer. 

In that instant Izaya regretted his earlier outburst—bitterly. His spine ached with the weight of it, and he wondered if he would be able to squirm out from under it. 

"You throwing me off the fourth story hardly equates a fair fight to the death, Shizu-chan." 

"Guess so," the blonde grunted. "But I won our last fight, right? At least according to you, I did. So your life is mine, right? I can do whatever the hell I want with it now, and you can't complain—not if you respect the results of our fight." 

__That's _why you came..._ Izaya's heart plummeted those four stories to the ground. _That's_ why you came _...?!_

The cigarette snapped suddenly, and Izaya felt a scream crawl up his throat. A thousand such snappings flashed behind his eyes, and before he knew it his hands were on the wheels of his chair—as if it would do any good. Shizuo, eyes flashing and jaw set, turned to him briefly—the tiger once again, in his midst—and tossed the cigarette thoughtlessly over the railing. 

As it fell, Izaya felt his own body sailing through the air, the ground approaching... approaching... concrete reaching for him... and...! 

The sliding glass door shattered spectacularly as Shizuo slammed it open, then stepped calmly over the threshold and back into the apartment. Izaya whimpered as broken glass showered him, but only one or two shards nicked his skin. The rest bounced off or landed harmlessly on his thick robe. 

Shizuo was long gone by the time Izaya got himself together enough to move. Slowly, still with a rhythmic hitch in his breath, the information broker guided his wheelchair back inside with a crunching of glass. 

_I'm not safe. The way he's been acting up until now... it's no guarantee. It's not even an indication. I'm not safe here._

He could run. It was possible to hire people for anything—a taxi and escort to an airport would be nothing. He had the numbers in his phone; he had the money in his bank account. He could hire guns, too, and give them this address—he could have Shizuo killed. Before the beast woke up—for he could hear him snoring once again—the whole apartment building would go up in flames or be sent crashing to the ground amid an explosion the likes of which the city had never seen. 

But no—as soon as those fantasies occurred to Izaya, he was forced to discard them. Killing Shizuo was impossible, in theory and in practice. At best, he could hope for a clean getaway. And that, at least, he felt certain was within his reach. 

_"But I won our last fight, right?_

_"So your life is mine, right?_

_"I can do whatever the hell I want with it now, and you can't complain—not if you respect the results of our fight."_

_That's why you came here. I don't know what I was thinking before, but if that's the reason..._

_"... if you respect the results of our fight."_

Izaya looked mournfully down at his legs. They were as clear a sign as any that he _did_ accept and respect those results, and here was Shizuo come to claim even more spoils of the victory— _untold_ spoils, really, because he had clearly said that his rights were practically limitless. 

But even with his phone and the front door beckoning, Izaya found himself quite unable to move. And, when he finally did, it was with a sigh toward his bedroom—toward the steady breath of the person lying there. Shizuo was soundly asleep, as he had suspected, and he crawled into his own bed without much thought; his eyes did, however, contemplatively trace the blonde's shadowy form before he closed them. 

_If my life isn't mine anymore, why not sleep while I can...?_ he thought idly, a mysterious smile twisting his lips. _So let's just see what happens tomorrow... I suppose..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope to see you again soon in the next chapter! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are the joy of my existence, and notes on [the tumblr version](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/142674451168/hard-sought-chapter-2) are always appreciated as well!


	3. Splint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so so much for all the comments and kudos! <3 Sorry this chapter _was_ a bit delayed by all the Shizaya Week stuff I've been doing, but I don't think it's too terribly late. ^^;; Plus it's a long-ish chapter, too. :3 
> 
> Hey look, I learned the kids' names. So no more awkward allusions to "the boy." Now it's Harukahito (and Harumi)! ~~Holy hell I want to read the novel sooo bad......~~
> 
> Also, in advance, I am deeply sorry.

When Izaya woke next, he could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. 

He could also hear a faint voice. 

Trying to move as quietly as he could, he slunk across his sheets and slithered into his wheelchair. The thing creaked traitorously at first, but quieted as he rolled into the living room. 

"No... no, sorry." Shizuo's voice was clearer—discernible. "Right. Yeah. I _found him_. Yeah. I mean, I hope, but... no, no. Yeah." 

Then, suddenly, "'Morning, Izaya." 

Startled and very annoyed that his presence was known, Izaya scoffed and wheeled himself the rest of the way into the kitchen. Shizuo had his phone pinned between shoulder and cheek, both his hands occupied with the eggs and rice pudding on the stove. 

"Rice pudding?" Izaya asked, making no attempt to hide his disdain. "What are you, five?" 

Shizuo didn't react. "Yeah. Yeah, he's up. Mm-hmm. Talk to you later." Letting the pudding sit untended for a moment, he removed his phone from it's spot and slid it into his pocket. Izaya's eyes flashed to the hiding spot briefly, but Shizuo said, "Don't even think about it," before a whim could so much as form in Izaya's mind. 

"You're no fun," the information broker pouted, then spun and rolled himself into the living room. His shoulders were even more sore than usual, and he wondered if that could be the stress of the past few days manifesting. 

He was still dressed in his robe from the night before, but he didn't feel like risking the sheer length of time changing his clothes took with Shizuo up and about. His dignity was compromised enough without the blonde being witness to _that_. If the past few days were any indication, besides, Shizuo would be out of the house to run inane, domestic errands soon enough. The object of Izaya's musings emerged a few minutes later, and held out a bowl of rice pudding with a fried egg on top. Izaya stared at him in confusion, but the blonde didn't budge. 

" _What is it_ , Shizu-chan?" he prompted, when his annoyance had mounted sufficiently. 

"Breakfast," Shizuo answered, unhelpfully. "Eat it." 

"You don't expect me to just—" Izaya began, then yelped as the bowl was dropped over his lap. He scrambled to catch it and succeeded, although a fair amount of the sticky stuff still ended up splattered across his hands and robe. "H-Hey! You uncivilized oaf, don't you—!" he began, but Shizuo had already vanished back into the kitchen. Staring after him angrily, Izaya picked up a chopstick from where it had fallen on his lap. "Stupid protozoan..." 

But, one way or the other, breakfast had _fallen into his lap_. He wasn't one for sweets, but the pudding was warm and easy to eat; the egg was tastier, and he found himself enjoying it more than he would have thought. 

Shizuo returned a moment later with his own helping, slouching into one of the dining room chairs. Izaya licked the last of the pudding from where it had dripped onto his hands, wondering if he should bring up the night's events or not. No sooner had he decided it would probably be a bad idea than Shizuo spoke. 

"You didn't make a break for it." 

Izaya blinked, surprised. "What do you mean by that?" 

"I was half expecting you to be gone this morning," the blonde admitted, and Izaya's lips drew back over vicious teeth. 

"Why Shizu-chan, I didn't expect you to be so aware. I thought you were entirely oblivious to the weight of what you said last night." 

"I'm not that stupid, Flea," Shizuo grunted, then rose and approached. Izaya stiffened, but when his house-guest reached out it was only to relieve him of his empty bowl. "It's good that you stayed," he tossed over his shoulder, on his way to the kitchen. 

"..." Izaya wasn't sure how the statement was meant, so he wasn't at all sure how to respond. He knew that he felt vaguely offended by it. But he didn't speak as Shizuo made his way back into the living room and crashed into the plush recliner he had bought the day before, propping his feet up and pulling out his phone. 

"Hey, this 人 ラブ network is you, right? What's the password?" 

Izaya bit his lip, feeling violated in every possible way as he surrendered his wifi code. "... 愛してる." 

"Thanks." 

When it became apparent that Shizuo intended to stay right there for a while, in that chair and in that position, Izaya shrugged and wheeled himself over to his desk. He opened his laptop and tried his hardest to attend to work—he had more unread emails than he could ever remember having. And he did manage to wade through a good chunk of them before his phone rang, jarring him and causing Shizuo to look up. 

The unfortunate fact of the matter, however, was that Izaya had stashed his phone on his lap for safe-keeping. He should have known better for, as soon as he jumped, the pesky thing went clattering across the floor, sliding beneath his desk and emerging on the other side, still ringing. 

There was a moment of stillness—a horrified freezing, for Izaya—and then Shizuo rose. Izaya spluttered an indignant objection even as the blonde picked up the phone and answered, cool as anything, "Hey." 

There was a dismal beat, then, "No, god no, I didn't—Shinra, I didn't kill him. He's right—fuck, Shinra, you're hurting my ear." And then the phone was flung at Izaya with alarming force. The information broker got his hands up in time to catch it, but the impact stung badly and he winced. "It's for you, Flea." 

"It's _my phone_!" Izaya retorted. "What did you expect, you uncivilized beast?!" 

Shizuo only shrugged; Shinra's tiny, frantic voice coaxed Izaya, finally, into sighing wearily and lifting the phone to his ear. 

"I'm here, Shinra." 

"Izaya!!" the doctor exclaimed, sounding relieved and thrilled. "Jeez, when Shizuo picked up I was afraid he'd _killed you_!" 

"Do you really lack _all_ discretion, you sorry excuse for a member of society's underground?" Izaya asked stingingly, trying to hide the way Shinra's blunt assumption made him start to tremble. "I can't talk now." 

"But Izaya, I've got some—!" 

"Can't talk now!" Izaya repeated with forced cheer. "Next time _I'll_ call _you_ , how's that sound? Good? Alrighty!" And without waiting for a reply he hung up, hand a bit jittery. 

Shizuo had his eyes back on the screen of his own phone. "You didn't have to hang up on my account." 

"... You don't seem surprised," Izaya ventured, and Shizuo shrugged. 

"You're an information broker, right?" he growled. "Of course I'm not surprised that you'd do some digging. I'm not stupid." 

_You're supposed to be._ Izaya almost said it, but something kept his mouth firmly shut. 

"Besides," Shizuo grunted, sounding annoyed, "Shinra won't be able to tell you much, so I really don't care." 

The words hit Izaya with the force of a moving truck—their meaning, even harder. To that point he hadn't been sure—definitively, anyway—that Shizuo was intentionally keeping things from him. The blonde was a dumb beast, after all... or at least he was supposed to be. He could have been keeping his motivations shrouded out of nothing more than ignorance or laziness; he may not have even _known_ his own motivations _to_ keep them secret. But that offhanded comment was all Izaya needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Shizuo was hiding something from him. 

_But... you told me last night..._

_... You've come here to claim some debt I owe you—my life. That's simple enough..._

_But with how you're talking now..._

_... there's more...?_

Izaya felt his face begin to twist with disgust, but he managed to stop it and stoop over his laptop as if he had something urgent to attend to. Shizuo's chair creaked as he leaned farther back, cracking his neck casually. 

And, as the minutes tucked by, Izaya slowly realized that this day would not be like the previous ones; Shizuo was making no move to get up or leave the house.

He seemed content to sit and, if Izaya could see correctly over his shoulder, watch some show on his phone. 

_Shit..._

_Shit..._

_Shit shit shit shiiiit..._

Izaya felt sweat bead on his forehead; Shizuo didn't seem to notice the oppressive tension, but Izaya felt as though it might crush him where he sat. He kept trying to focus on work, but every time Shizuo shifted or even breathed a bit more noticeably it sent his mind spiraling into a panic. 

Nearly three hours passed like that, and by the time Shizuo stretched with a loud groan Izaya's nerves were ready to snap. But all the blonde did was stretch—elongate his body almost unnaturally, shoulders flexing and back arching, and then yawn as he drew back in on himself. 

"I'm going for a walk," he announced, stowing his phone in his pocket. "I don't see how you can stay cooped up in this damn apartment all day." 

"I usually don't," Izaya retorted. "I'm currently being kept a bit of a prisoner here, if you haven't noticed." 

Shizuo tilted his head. "I'm not stopping you from leaving," he said flatly, and Izaya gave him an incredulous look. 

"You've cut me off from the outside world," he replied just as emotionlessly. "I don't have the strength to just 'go for a stroll' on my own, and you've taken it upon yourself to give my primary source of such help a _paid vacation_." 

Shizuo blinked, seeming genuinely surprised. "Oh. I didn't realize," he said, then got up and came around the back of Izaya's wheelchair. His hands were on the handles before Izaya realized what was happening. 

"Hey... H-Hey...!" the information broker objected, then began to thrash as Shizuo took full control of his chair. "Hey, stop it! What are you doing, you dumb beast?!" 

"You'll come with me on my walk," Shizuo announced, and Izaya kicked out weakly as the door loomed up in front of him. 

"Hey! C'mon, Shizu-chan, be reasonable!" he half-shrieked. "I'm not even dressed! Shizu-chaaan!" 

That made the blonde pause, and suddenly he had spun Izaya's wheelchair with enough force to make the information broker scream softly. "Good point," he admitted, then sent Izaya rolling wildly back into the house. "Go change. I gotta use the bathroom real quick, anyway." 

Izaya barely managed stop his chair from careening into the wall, and was left trying hard to catch his breath once he had slowed and stopped inches from the plaster. Hearing the bathroom door shut softly behind his guest, he pondered his options—and once again found that there weren't that many of them. 

Time being of the essence, he wheeled himself quickly through his bedroom and into his closet. What would normally take him half an hour to get on took about ten minutes, as he was spurred on by the urgency of knowing that Shizuo could come striding in to fetch him at any moment. The struggle left every inch of him throbbing, but he also felt a distinct sense of accomplishment that he had managed shirt, jeans, and even shoes in a matter of minutes. 

Shizuo materialized moments later, looking only mildly pleased with himself. 

"No more excuses," he muttered, then took up his position at the back of Izaya's wheelchair again. He was calmer now, and Izaya appreciated the apparent care with which he guided the wheelchair along. 

Still, the information broker felt the need to announce loudly, "I am not a willing participant in this, Shizu-chan! You've forced this outing upon me and left me no escape route." 

"Shut up," Shizuo replied tersely, forcefully enough to make Izaya comply. "You'll enjoy it. It'll be damn good for you." 

Izaya snatched his furred cloak off its hook as they passed through the doorway and slipped out into the crisp air of the balcony. As Izaya shivered, hurrying to wrap his cloak around himself, Shizuo looked around. 

"I don't know the neighborhood," he stated, then looked down at Izaya. "Which way, Flea?" 

"Left—that's the way to the elevator," Izaya grumbled helpfully, and Shizuo took off in the indicated direction. 

Izaya was accustomed to having his wheelchair pushed by others; accustomed to being out of control of his own destiny, at least as far as his movement was concerned. He trusted Harukahito and Harumi—more accurately, he trusted _his control_ of the children, as was the case with anyone else he asked to or charged with pushing his wheelchair. 

Shizuo Heiwajima was an entirely different matter. 

Fingers gripping his armrests until they were bone white, he found it surprisingly easy to breathe. 

Shizuo didn't try for small-talk, just kept up a casual pace along the sidewalk. Other pedestrians parted for them, and their looks—whether pitying or tender or admiring—meant nothing to Izaya. All that mattered in his world was the strong presence pushing his wheelchair and the feel of sun and breeze in his face—which he couldn't help but turn upwards to meet them. 

Shizuo glanced down; met his gaze, and caught him with a surprisingly peaceful look on his face. And, before either of them realized it, they were sharing a smile. 

Izaya coughed slightly when he realized it, averting his gaze. But when he glanced up through his bangs he found that Shizuo still wore the same gentle expression, and was still looking unobtrusively down at him. 

_Shizu..._

Izaya didn't know what to make of it, but couldn't muster the desire to think about it too hard.

... ... ... 

"Let's stop here for dinner."

The halt was jarring; Izaya had been in a state of constant motion for as long as he and Shizuo had been out on their little walk—a good two hours. It had lulled him into a state of near-perfect relaxation, but the stop jolted him back to rigidity. 

"Are you ruled entirely by your stomach, Shizu-chan?" he asked sharply, mostly to give himself time to gather his nerves. The blonde shrugged. 

"Why not? It looks high-end enough to offer your otoro, right?" 

Izaya felt a shiver race through him; he knew Shizuo, but hearing the blonde come up with such trivia about him was more than slightly unnerving. 

"... Yeah. I guess this is as good a place as any." 

The sushi restaurant looked nothing like Russia Sushi, but Izaya couldn't imagine a way to shove memories of that place from his mind. He had been there too many times to forget it, and then there was— 

"Yeah." Shizuo's voice cut into his ruminations. "Two. Nah, we'd prefer a booth." 

Izaya was oblivious to the waiter and other patrons as he was wheeled over to a booth; Shizuo situated his wheelchair at the end of the table and slid into one of the seats a moment later. 

_What... is this...?_

"Let's sit up at the bar, Shizu-chan." 

The blonde looked up curiously. "It'll be harder," he pointed out, with a nod to the armrest Izaya was unconsciously clutching like a lifeline. 

Izaya shook his head; there was some implacable nostalgia driving him, and he felt as though sitting at the bar would help him get closer to first identifying and then satisfying it. "You picked the place—I pick where we sit." 

Shizuo regarded him levelly for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever you say," he relented, getting up again and taking up Izaya's wheelchair. The server followed them dutifully. 

Izaya realized that he _hadn't_ thought things through when he saw how impossibly high the bar was. Replacing a stool with his wheelchair wasn't realistic, but backing down wasn't an option. So he looked expectantly at Shizuo, trying to exude confidence. 

"Well? Help me, you oaf." 

Shizuo hesitated a moment longer, then lifted Izaya easily out of his wheelchair and onto one of the high stools. The information broker's nails clutched at his armrests for a moment, but he forced them to release. 

It was then, as he was bodily lifted, that Izaya got the clearest flash of memory he could have asked for. Yet then, back in Ikebukuro, it wasn't Shizuo who had placed him onto one of the stools at a familiar sushi bar; it had been _Simon_. 

Shizuo had been placed with equal force, growling and disgruntled, beside him. 

"Otoro, right?" the present-day Shizuo sitting next to him asked, and Izaya nodded vaguely. He could hear Shizuo ordering, but paid it little head. Instead he was grasping at the wispy aura of times past, desperate to reclaim those days—those simple, precious days. 

_Why did we ever give them up...? Why...?!_

"Remember when Simon would force us to do this?" Shizuo asked abruptly, and Izaya stiffened. But his companion had a peaceful look on his face, and it disarmed Izaya quicker than he would have expected. 

"Yeah." 

"We shouldn't have stopped," Shizuo continued listlessly, then turned to Izaya with earnest, limpid eyes. "We shouldn't have needed him to force us, we should have just kept going there. We should have understood." 

Izaya's throat swelled abruptly, and he tasted tears on the very back of his tongue. He hadn't expected Shizuo to bring up the same memories welling in his skull, let alone so simply and perfectly. 

When the food came, it was all he could do to scrape up the strength to eat, let alone look over at Shizuo. Thankfully, the blonde remained silent, save for the occasional comment regarding the food.

... ... ... 

The sun was setting by the time Shizuo returned to their appointment, Izaya carried along in his wheelchair. The information broker was improbably relaxed once again, the sensation of powerlessness over his own destiny almost like a tranquilizer.

His apartment was the same as it had always been, and yet not nearly as empty. It was filled with furniture he hadn't bought, and the scent wasn't just his—it was Shizuo's, too. There was a set of bartender's clothes thrown over the back of one dining room chair, and a backpack that didn't belong to Izaya in one corner. Two phone chargers were plugged into the wall beside one another. 

The apparent looked well-lived in, and clearly inhabited by two people. 

"I'm gonna take a shower," Shizuo announced, leaving Izaya's wheelchair to roll along once he released it; the information broker deftly retook control of it. 

"Good," he quipped. "You reek." 

Shizuo made a face, but didn't respond otherwise as he made his way to the bathroom. A moment later, however, he called back. 

"Shit! This damn thing doesn't even _have_ a shower head!" 

"It's a very nice bath, Shizu-chan, and very expensive. That's one thing I won't have you remodeling," Izaya replied. "Enjoy the heated seat and then we'll see if you miss something as insignificant as a shower head." 

The water began running a moment later, and Izaya had a moment of peace before, "There are too many goddamn buttons! How the hell do I turn these fucking jets off?!" 

"You'll figure it out, I'm sure," he called back, grinning at the loud curses coming from the bathroom. But after a few minutes the sounds of running water ceased, and Izaya sighed happily at the return of peace and quiet. He settled in at his computer, then, able to devote himself more totally to his work than he had in days. 

After nearly an hour, Shizuo emerged once again; Izaya had lapsed from work into leisurely forum trolling, and didn't glance up right away at the sound of footsteps. But when he did look up, he had to work hard not to choke. 

His house guest was very close to naked, hair still sopping and supple skin damp from his bath. Izaya suddenly had the distinct feeling that he had a god from the olden times in his living room. The towel wrapped around his waist—one of Izaya's favorites, he noticed a bit disconnectedly—looked almost out of place; someone of such stunning stature and image shouldn't be clad in such a fluffy, absurd little scrap of fabric. 

"Mind if I have some of that sake I saw in the kitchen?" he asked Izaya casually, and the information broker simply shook his head. "Cool." Then, from the kitchen, "Do you want a glass?" 

"Sure." 

Shizuo returned a moment later, setting a crystal glass down beside Izaya's laptop. The information broker lifted it, offering a wordless toast, and Shizuo obliged with an audible _clink_ before retiring to his huge, comfortable chair and settling in for the evening.

... ... ... 

When Izaya retreated to his bed that night, he didn't expect to wake until morning. He was tired, but not in an agitated way; he wasn't bothered by the soft sound of Shizuo snoring several feet away. On the contrary, it made it easier for him to relax and drift into an easy slumber.

But he did wake before sunrise— _was woken_ , rather, by a weight above him. He was vaguely aware of it crawling up over him, but snapped to full wakeful attention as a hand appeared heavily on his pillow. His eyes flew open, meeting the gleaming gaze of Shizuo Heiwajima. 

"Shiz—" 

"I can't hold back anymore." Shizuo's voice was a soft, taught growl. "I've tried and I've tried, and I just can't _fucking_ keep myself under control anymore—not with you so damn _close_!" 

Izaya slowly began to shake, fear or something like it making his heart quicken. He could feel the coiled strength in the body above him, and he recognized it instantly—Shizuo was in the clutches of violent and uncontrollable animal emotion, his rational all but gone. It wasn't the alcohol; it took much more than one glass to influence Shizuo. But, for some other reason or perhaps none at all, the blonde had _snapped_. 

At last, Izaya was reunited with the Shizuo of his past—the adversary he had sparred with for years, and the phantom who haunted his nightmares. 

Shizuo Heiwajima, the Blonde Beast of Ikebukuro; the tiger come to finish his wounded dragon. 

"I've been holding back..." Shizuo snarled. "I've been holding back, you damn flea, and it's been so _fucking_ hard..." His hand flexed in Izaya's pillow, his body quivering violently. "I haven't even let myself _touch_ you...! I can't keep... I can't—! I have to do this. I'm losing my _mind_." 

Izaya, helpless beneath him, could only try to keep air in his terribly compressed lungs. He felt each word like a red-hot needle, and suddenly his legs were aching with inexplicable intensity. 

"I came here... for a reason..." Shizuo rasped, another tremor wracking his frame. "I came looking for you, Izaya... for a reason... I came looking... because I _wanted to find you_." 

_Helpful..._ Izaya thought disconnectedly, then distantly laughed at his own stupidity. _As if I'm not capable of hazarding a damn good guess..._

_This is how I die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die; I'm going to die, I'm going to—!_

"... I understand, Shizu-chan." 

Shizuo blinked, his body dropping an inch closer to Izaya's; the information broker tried to shrink back into the mattress, but there was precious little give left in the coils. 

"You... understand?" 

Izaya nodded faintly. 

In that moment, Shizuo's whole presence eased; his shoulders relaxed, the severe lines on his face vanished, and his hand unclenched from Izaya's pillow. The information broker's heart, however, didn't slow or steady. 

_I'm going to die. I'm about to die. He's gotten what he wants—a confession of understanding._

"You... understand," Shizuo murmured, then said with a tense echo to his voice, "Yeah. Of course. You're Izaya Orihara. Of course you'd understand." 

"Of course I understand, Shizu-chan," Izaya whispered. _This is how it's always been—and this is how it'll end._

"Good..." Shizuo rumbled slowly, then lowered himself the rest of the way to the bed. His body rested half-on and half-off of Izaya, one arm laid like a steel bar across his prisoner's chest. "You understand, then..." 

Izaya felt the pressure of Shizuo's form with bone-crushing force; it pinned him down, threatening to squash the life from him like a bug trapped beneath a cat's paw. But Shizuo didn't move, instead settling into the blankets and staying there, eventually drifting into a deep slumber with his body nestled firmly against Izaya's. 

Izaya, however, remained wide awake for hours longer, one thought running through his mind again and again, blocking out any glimmer of logic or questioning that might appear. 

_This is how I die, this is how I die, this is how I die, this is..._

_... this is how I die._

_This is how I die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just... apologize again... and I'll see you guys soon for the next chapter!  
> But do please let me know what you think with comments and kudos, and notes on [the tumblr version](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/143119307068/hard-sought-chapter-3) are very appreciated, as well!  
> Thanks for reading~


	4. Cast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. I love this chapter. I hope you will too.

Izaya was surprised he managed to fall asleep, but it was simply a matter of exhaustion claiming his weary mind and body. He woke quickly enough, shaky from the moment he opened his eyes, and found the weight gone from atop his body. 

Shizuo Heiwajima was on his side, curled just slightly inward, beside him. 

With painstaking slowness Izaya looked over at him. His face was childish, totally relaxed. He looked beautiful, like a bronzed god come to take his rest among mortals. Izaya raised his hand unconsciously to brush back a strand of blonde hair, but flinched back a moment later. 

_Why... am I still alive...? What is he waiting for...?_

Izaya wondered disconnectedly if he should get up or if he should wait for Shizuo to wake. He wasn't going to run—he knew that. If he had had the will to run, he would have done it days before. But he had no desire to lie there and let his panic grow exponentially, so he edged cautiously out of the bed and hopped into his wheelchair with a slight creaking of metal. Shizuo didn't react. 

"... Okay..." Izaya breathed, giving himself a gentle shake before wheeling his way into the living room. The watery light of dawn was flooding in through the back doors, along with a distinct draft from the broken glass, and Izaya made a mental note to have the door fixed. The first thing that caught his eye was his phone, balanced on the edge of his desk, and he picked it up impulsively. 

_I should... call Shinra. If I'm going to die, I should call Shinra one last time._

For a moment, as the phone rang and rang, Izaya was afraid his friend wouldn't pick up. But then, as he set the coffee pot to brew, there was a click. 

"Hello!" 

"Hey. Shinra." Shifting the phone so that it was balanced on his shoulder, Izaya traversed the kitchen to fetch himself a cup. "'Morning. Got anything for me before the oaf crashing in my bedroom wakes up?" 

"Ooh, you let him sleep in your bedroom?" Shinra asked, a teasing tone to his voice. 

"I don't _let_ him do anything," Izaya corrected sorely, stretching for the mug he wanted. "He does what he wants, and I go along with it." 

"Well, that's still very sweet," Shinra said authoritatively. Then, that mischievous note growing stronger, he asked, "You two aren't sharing the same _bed_ , are you?" 

The night before drawn powerfully into Izaya's mind, he grimaced. "God no." 

"Well," Shinra sighed, sounding almost disappointed, "it's a start, I suppose." 

"'A start?'" Izaya echoed in confusion, pouring himself a cup of fresh, fragrant black coffee. It was one of the things that still bore some sense of pleasure for him, and he wheeled carefully over to his desk. 

"It isn't as if I know this for certain," Shinra continued, "but Shizuo didn't go looking for you to kill you—that's my hunch." 

"Says the one who assumed I was _dead_ when he answered my phone yesterday," Izaya said dryly, and the doctor chuckled. 

"What can I say? I panicked." 

Izaya sighed softly, then took a long drink of his coffee. "Well... I'll level with you, Shinra. I think you're wrong. Shizuo did come to kill me, so I thought I'd give you a call before that happens. I'm not going to try to stop it from happening, so if the day comes when you can't get in touch with me, assume that's what's happened." 

"... What gives you that idea?" Shinra asked softly, and the information broker shrugged. 

"You have your hunch, I have mine. I just wanted to let you know." 

"... I'll see what I can get out of Celty, okay? Just... just don't do anything rash, Izaya." 

That made Izaya smile. "I haven't been prone to rashness for a long, long time." 

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?" 

"Talk to you soon, my friend." 

Izaya hung up before Shinra had a chance to reply; he didn't savor the idea of fielding any more of the doctor's questions. So he opened up his laptop and sipped his coffee, relaxing in a beam of early-morning sun while he waited for Shizuo to wake. 

When the blonde emerged, all ruffled hair and sleepy eyes, clad in pajama pants but shirtless, he was smiling. "'Morning, Flea," he called, and Izaya raised his mug in response. "Anything in particular you want for breakfast?"

The information broker shrugged. "Chef's choice." 

There was the rattling of dishes from the kitchen, and Izaya felt a distinct disconnection from reality. _Perhaps..._ he thought, _I'm already dead. Perhaps Shizu-chan is dead, too, and here we are... stuck in some sort of spectral existence as though we never killed one another._

When Shizuo brought him a plate of steamed vegetables beside two fried eggs and rice, Izaya just nodded and muttered something resembling thanks. Shizuo paused, eyebrows knitting together. 

"You okay? Something bothering you?" 

_Do you even_ remember _last night?_ Izaya almost screamed, but only replied, "Haven't woken up entirely, that's all," and lifted his coffee demonstratively. 

Shizuo's expression eased. "Oh. Got it." Then, just as Izaya was on the verge of asking—though perhaps not screaming—that all important question regarding remembrance, the blonde hit him with, "I'm really glad you understand now—what I was trying to say last night." 

The impact of the words left Izaya breathless and blank as Shizuo, humming quietly, strolled back toward the kitchen. _Why are you doing this?!_ the information broker screamed at the walls of his own skull. _You know full well what happened last night, and now you're acting..._ happy _?! You're '_ glad I understand _?!' What the_ hell _is that supposed to mean, you damn beast...?!_

But he was powerless to ask such questions as Shizuo returned, slouched into his chair with breakfast in hand, and tucked in. Izaya felt himself begin to tremble yet again, but that was just as pointless as everything else; fear was useless, since he didn't intend to act on it. He knew that death was closing in on him, and as far as he was concerned it was now just a sick waiting game that Shizuo was playing. 

_"But I won our last fight, right?_

_"So your life is mine, right?_

_"I can do whatever the hell I want with it now, and you can't complain—not if you respect the results of that fight."_

Throat swelling with tears, Izaya tried to pick up his coffee cup and almost spilled it; his hand was shaking too hard to manage lifting it, and so the mug stayed solidly on the desk. 

_I-I... I'm going... to die..._

_... It's long overdue, but..._

_... But...!_

"Izaya?" 

Izaya's eyes snapped open at the call of his name, and he looked up to see Shizuo watching him. 

"You're not okay," the blonde stated, worry clear as anything in his eyes. "Is this about last night?" 

_Well of course it's about last night...!_ Izaya cried internally, but doubted he could verbalize it. In fact, he soon found that he couldn't speak at all; far too likely, he decided, that he would break down if he tried. 

"Izaya?" Shizuo repeated, standing with a surge of strength that made Izaya cringe. "Are you in pain? What's wrong, damnit? Talk to me, you damn flea!" 

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Izaya resolved to say _something_. Yet what came out of his mouth was far too honest for his taste, and he regretted the question immediately. "... Why did you come here, really?" 

Shizuo's eyes narrowed. "I thought you got it last night," he growled, an edge to his voice that made Izaya long to whimper like a frightened child. 

"I understand..." he said slowly, "that you're here to kill me—that you've been holding back, but that's the truth of the matter. What I can't figure out is why you haven't done it yet. Is this your sick idea of keeping me in suspense? You think you own me anyway, isn't that what you said? My life is yours to do whatever the hell you want with? So if you really are here to kill me, why haven't you done it yet? Please tell me, Shizu-chan." 

Shizuo stared at him blankly for a moment, but then his face twisted with primal fury. Izaya shrunk into his seat as Shizuo, with a roar, lifted his own chair and flung it—but not at Izaya, instead at the wall. It shattered the plaster with a spectacular crash, and then Shizuo was storming in tight circles in the empty space where it had been. 

"Damn it... damn it... damn it...! Damn it, damn it, damn it! Damn! Damnitdamnit _damnit_!" His voice grew from a mutter to a raging snarl, each curse striking Izaya with progressively more force. "Damn it! I'm an idiot, you know that?" he asked angrily, then laughed. "I'm a fucking idiot for thinking—! Shit! 

"And _you_!" he shouted suddenly, pointing; Izaya jerked back with such force that he nearly toppled his chair. "You're an even _bigger_ idiot! You're supposed to be the smart one, damn it, and then you go and say something like, 'I understand' when you don't understand _anything_ in the _god damn slightest_! Shiiiit!" 

While Izaya, certain that Shizuo was now trying to _scare_ him to death, tried to determine if his heart was still beating, the blonde caught his breath with a violent heaving of his chest, glaring horribly at the man in the wheelchair. But then, just as quick as the snapping had happened, the blonde seemed to come back to himself. 

"Shit..." he said again, in a much more furtive tone. Both his hands came up to his forehead as he gazed at Izaya, his expression shifting from horror to mortification to extreme irritation and then cycling though them again. "Oh shit, I am an idiot. I'm such a miserable idiot...!" 

"No more than me," Izaya muttered, although his jaw was clenched so tight the words came out slightly strangled. The horrified expression solidified on Shizuo's face as his arms dropped to his sides. 

"No, no, you're not...!" he objected. "This is on me! Don't you dare try to take the blame for this one, you bastard!" Then his hands flew back up, one on his forehead and one over his mouth. "Shit, I didn't mean to call you that...!" he said, voice muffled by his hand. 

But while Izaya's confusion was growing, his fear hadn't subsided in the slightest. "Kill me..." he said softly, then screamed it. "Go ahead and kill me! Just end the suspense, you damn beast! I can't handle this!" 

"Damn it, Izaya, would you stop _screaming_?!" Shizuo yelled back, then cursed and stomped his foot. "Shit! Now look what you did! You got me to raise my damn voice again, you happy?!"

"No!" Izaya wailed in despair. "No, I am very, very _not happy_!" 

"Shit!" Shizuo snapped, then buried his face in his hands and took several exaggeratedly deep breaths. "Look..." he began in a growl, then took another moment to further steady himself. Slowly, carefully, he took a couple of shuffling steps away from Izaya. "I'm... I'm trying _so hard_... not to scare you... I've _been_ trying, and now I know..." He laughed softly. "... now I know that I've been _failing miserably_." 

"What the hell do you mean, you've been trying not to scare me?" Izaya demanded, his voice strangled and high-pitched. "How the hell did you even _think_ you could _not scare me_?!" 

"Well I've been trying," Shizuo growled darkly, his voice enough to make Izaya's jaw snap firmly shut. "Shit... I did it again, didn't I...?" the blonde muttered, then lifted his face from his hands. "What did you think I was trying so hard to tell you last night?" 

Izaya felt his trembling intensify to an almost manic point, then fade as he clutched the armrests of his wheelchair. "... You came here... to kill me. But you've been holding back. And... you can't hold back anymore." 

Shizuo dragged his palms up over his face, then rubbed so furiously that it looked painful. His bangs were hopelessly messy when he let his hands drop, and the skin of his face was flushed slightly. 

"Great. Fucking... _great_. I was trying to tell you, you stupid flea... I've been holding _back_ because I didn't want to scare you—and because I didn't want to _hurt you_. And look what I went and did. Look how this turned out. Look at how..." he glanced over, eyes limpid with regret, "... look how scared you are." 

"How could I not be scared?" Izaya asked breathily, halfheartedly furious at the fact that he still couldn't grasp the meaning behind the blonde's words. "I'm terrified of death, Shizuo, you know that! You must know that!" 

"I do know that," Shizuo replied simply. "That's why I knew I had to be careful. 

"I didn't come here to kill you, Izaya. I didn't come here to collect some debt I think you owe me. I came here because I wanted to find you—because I want to be with you." 

All at once, Izaya's chest tightened. But his fear, strangely, vanished, replaced by a desperate yearning—a need to know. "What does that mean? Tell me, Shizuo. Please." 

"I love you, Izaya." There was no trace of hesitation or confusion in Shizuo's voice, or in his overly-earnest face. "I've been trying to get that across in a way that wouldn't scare you, but I lost it last night. I'm not a patient person, you know. I just couldn't take it anymore. Being so close to you... and not being able to just say it... not being able to hold you, or even talk honestly... it wore me down. And when you said you understood, I thought you got it. But clearly..." he laughed vaguely, "... clearly I fucked up worse than I thought I could possibly fuck up." Then, with a smile that was truly and pathetically miserable, he said, "Sorry." 

"... Did you really mean to use that word?" Izaya whispered, every part of his body, every letter he spoke, trembling. 

"Love," Shizuo repeated, although he took a step back. "I love you, Izaya. _That's_ why I came looking for you, not to kill you. _That's_ what I thought you understood last night. _That's_ why I'm here, and that's why I'm _staying_. I don't need an answer, I just need you to know. And I don't want you to be afraid of me, even if you've got every right to be. I'm not stupid enough to think I'm in total control, but I'm not going to hurt you—I swear." 

"... Then why are you moving away from me right now?" Izaya asked softly, and Shizuo paused, though he had taken one more shuffling step away. 

"Because I'm scared, too," he admitted flatly. "I'm scared I'll hurt you. You're not well, Izaya. I could break you if I'm not careful, and I don't have that kind of confidence in myself. And I just swore..." He trailed off, then muttered a curse under his breath. "I won't hurt you again. I won't let myself." 

Then Shizuo sighed; arched his back slightly and gazed up at the ceiling. "Holy shit I need a smoke..." he groaned, and began to pace off toward the front door. But a sudden desire seized Izaya; not only could he move, but he couldn't bear to sit still, and all at once he was following. 

"I'll have one, too." 

Shizuo paused; pointed out flatly, "You don't smoke." 

"And I don't intend to start," Izaya replied. "But it's not as if I've never had a cigarette, and I'm not above having one under special circumstances." 

Shizuo hesitated, but eventually nodded and held the door open. Izaya passed him with a curt, "Thank you," and then held out his hand when the blonde joined him on the balcony. 

"... I'm not going to let you make a habit of this," Shizuo said, even as he handed his companion a cigarette and then offered his lighter. "You've got enough problems without fucking up your lungs, too." 

Izaya laughed vaguely as he leaned forward, lighting the tip of the cigarette and then taking an experimental drag. It had been years since he'd smoked, after all, and he didn't want to choke embarrassingly. He exhaled, then replied with, "And you're going to have to stop taking your smokes out here on the front porch, or else the landlady will throw you out faster than you can say 'carcinoma.'" 

Shizuo stared blankly for a moment, then his eyes widened and he turned to Izaya; the information broker dragged casually at his cigarette. 

"Does that mean I can stay?" 

Izaya held his breath for a moment, then let the smoke rush out as he exhaled; he turned a baleful grin on Shizuo. 

"I was letting you stay when I thought you were here to kill me, wasn't I? Of course I'm not going to try to kick you out now." 

Shizuo's eyes bled relief, and a slight smile twitched at his lips. "Right." 

"Right," Izaya agreed, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. "Glad we're on the same page." 

"About time," Shizuo growled, with a rough chuckle. 

"I have an embarrassing phone call to make to Shinra..." Izaya sighed, and Shizuo made a curious noise in the back of his throat. "Aah, I'll put it on speaker. It'll be funny to finally have an entirely honest, three way conversation after all the years we've know each other." 

"'Finally?'" Shizuo asked. "What's that mean?" 

"..." Izaya tipped his head back, contemplating whether or not he wanted to reveal what he was thinking. But, in the interest of maintaining their current 'on the same page' status, he said, "Shinra has always said we'd get along well if we tried, right? Well, he's also claimed that we would get along well _romantically_ . He used to badger me about it when we were all in high school together." He grimaced. "And now... well, he thought I was wrong about you intending to kill me, and here I am! Wrong about you intending to kill me." 

Shizuo laughed. "You deserve to be a little embarrassed, Flea. You're supposed to be the smart one, between us." 

"You're not as dumb as I like to say you are," Izaya murmured, smiling vaguely. "You don't give yourself enough credit." 

"... Thanks for that, Flea," Shizuo rumbled, then sighed and relaxed further over the balcony. "And for letting me stay." 

"Thanks for coming to look for me," Izaya said without thinking, then paused. "I don't regret saying that," he stated thoughtfully, then turned to Shizuo. "Thanks." Then he tossed what was left of his cigarette over the railing, and waited quietly while Shizuo finished his. 

"Ready to head back in?" the blonde asked, grinding the nub of his cigarette out on the railing; when Izaya nodded, he moved to open the door. 

"You know, Shizu-chan..." the information broker murmured, then shook his head slightly. "You wouldn't believe how _exhausted_ I am." And he was—his limbs felt weak and shaky, and the last thing he felt like doing was stirring himself to movement. He could have forced himself, yet at the same time... 

"I'll push you," Shizuo offered instantly, then hesitated. "Is that okay?" 

"That's okay, Shizu," Izaya murmured, letting his head drop back slightly. "That's just fine, Shizu-chan."

... ... ... 

Izaya couldn't take his eyes off Shizuo, even if that meant an occasional incident of awkwardly prolonged eye—contact made when Shizuo looked over and started gazing back at him.

The blonde had retrieved his chair from the hole in the wall after parking Izaya behind his desk, then settled himself comfortably into it as he had been known to do. Izaya had, ever since, been puzzling over him, informant work pushed to the very back of his mind. 

_Death_ was sitting in his living room. Even taking into account what had just transpired, Shizuo could very well snap and kill him at any time. That shouldn't be forgotten. 

But Izaya had been prepared for that since the beginning, so it could be relegated to the bottom of the fact pile; dismissed, if not forgotten. 

_Love..._

Izaya always said that he feared death more than anything, but that wasn't exactly true. What was even more terrifying, in that moment and more often than he would ever admit, was the idea of being loved. He had done everything he could to prevent Shizuo Heiwajima from ever using that word, yet secretly hoped he someday would—hoped while denying he hoped for it, and never admitting it in even his most furtive, private thoughts. But now that that word had been used, Izaya couldn't ignore how light his heart felt; how much he wanted, desperately, to reply in kind. 

_I love you, Shizuo._

"Shizu-chan?" 

"Yeah?" the blonde replied, looking up. 

"What did you mean, that night out on the porch? When you said my life was yours, if I respected the results of our fight?" 

"You're hearing what you want to hear again, Flea," Shizuo replied, much to Izaya's surprise. "I also said 'If you think I won.' But that's just it—I don't think I won. It was a fight to the death and we both lived—it was a draw." 

Izaya nearly laughed; as it was he choked a bit, then buried his face against his desk. 

"Izaya? You okay?" 

"Fine..." the information broker sighed, then leaned back with a lopsided grin. "Hey Shizu-chan? Promise me something, ne?" 

"Anything." 

"Not anything," Izaya said quickly. "Let's be realistic, or else things will get out of hand again." 

Looking a bit disgruntled, Shizuo nodded. "Fair enough. So try me, and then we'll see." 

Smiling, Izaya leaned forward and rested his chin on his folded arms. "If you're unclear on something, ask me. And if I'm unclear on something, I'll ask you." 

"And we'll both promise to answer honestly?" Shizuo asked; Izaya though for a moment.

"... Answering every question we ever ask each other truthfully might be a bit much..." he murmured. "Ah! We'll have a cue word, how about that? What about just 'honestly?' Any question we preface with 'honestly' is a serious question and will be answered according—to avoid future misunderstandings." 

"I can promise that," Shizuo replied. "Of course." 

"So honestly, Shizu-chan..." Izaya began, tilting his head slightly, "how long have you been in love with me?" 

"... For a long time, probably," Shizuo replied. "But I realized it about a year ago, when I learned you were alive. That's when I first started to consider looking for you. For a while I resisted it, thinking you wouldn't want me to find you. But then I realized that I had to try. I had to try, or I'd go crazy. I'd lose my mind if I couldn't be with you. I knew that." 

The words made Izaya grow unexpectedly warm, and he broke eye contact. 

"Honestly, what were you thinking when you found me?" 

"I was scared," Shizuo admitted. "I had no idea how you'd react to seeing me. Part of me was expecting you to attack me on-sight." 

"You must've realized fairly quickly that that wasn't going to happen," Izaya said—a prompting for Shizuo to speak further. 

The blonde nodded and obliged. "Yeah. I had no idea, you know," he put in unnecessarily—he would have had no way of knowing. "I was... it made me _sick_...!" His voice dropped, expression darkening. "And when I picked you up..." 

Izaya felt his stomach twist. 

"You felt _breakable_ ," Shizuo continued, sounding almost as if he was about to fly into a rage. "I've never been afraid of hurting you before, but you felt so damn _fragile_ when I picked you up. 

"And I knew that I was responsible for it, too." 

They both fell silent, Izaya with his head on his desk and Shizuo with his tipped up to rest against the back of his chair. Their eyes met momentarily—just a shifting of gazes—and Shizuo smiled hesitantly. Izaya felt the corners of his mouth twitch up in response. 

"Honestly," Izaya asked, "why do you want so badly to be with someone like me?" 

_Someone like me... who did everything in my power to make you hate me..._ despise _me... because I was so scared of this very result...?_

__"Because I love you," was Shizuo's reply. "And because I'm stubborn, and selfish enough to want to be with you no matter what. That's all."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! Critique always welcome, commentary loved!  
> Kudos are fantastic too, and notes on [the tumblr version](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/143569509093/hard-sought-chapter-4) are always appreciated~  
> Thank you so much for reading, and I look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm gonna have to go back and re-think how these chapters are titled; this is turning out much longer than I originally thought it would...) 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who commented or left kudos on the last chapter (or any chapter, for that matter)! I hope you enjoy the next installment~

Uneventful day faded into mundane night—the two shared supper, Shizuo went out to smoke—on the back porch—while Izaya bathed briefly, then Shizuo took his turn in the bath he was learning to operate while Izaya made a few important but unexciting work-related phone calls. Then both boys bid one another a cordial goodnight, at a silently agreed upon time, and settled down into their respective beds. 

Izaya, however, woke up not that long after—and _famished_ , for the first time he could remember. 

Glancing at the clock and finding it shortly after three in the morning, the information broker sighed in irritation. He lay still for some time, wondering if he could manage to go back to sleep. But if there was one thing he definitely wasn't accustomed to it was going to bed hungry, and he eventually came to the conclusion that he _wouldn't_ last until the proper hour to eat breakfast. It wasn't as though waking Shizuo was a concern, after all, and there were enough leftovers in the kitchen to offer a variety of quickly accessible snacks. So he wriggled out from under the blankets, pausing to glance over at Shizuo's still form, and then shifted himself into his wheelchair. 

When he opened the refrigerator, however, the cold leftovers were considerably less appealing than he had anticipated. He was hungry, but he wasn't desperate. That realization led to the fishing out of pots and pans and other cooking utensils, though still with the vague notion that it was _three in the morning_ and he didn't want to get too involved. 

"Hungry?" 

Shizuo's voice made him freeze, one hand clutching the edge of a cabinet as he strained to reach a steamer with the other. Slowly he sunk back down, turning. 

"I woke you?" It was almost unbelievable; he had thought Shizuo was unwakable. 

Indeed, Shizou shook his head. "Wasn't asleep," he said, walking past Izaya to fetch the steamer down. "I was listening to you breathe, instead." 

Izaya felt his face heat up and resisted the urge to splutter something embarrassing, instead looking down as the steamer was placed in his lap. "Oh. Thanks," he added awkwardly, and Shizuo nodded. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

Izaya blinked. "You're hungry, too?" 

"I could eat," Shizuo replied, reorganizing the things that Izaya had already gathered on the counter. "Besides, this is hard for you, right?" Just as Izaya was about to reply with something indignant, he continued, "So it'll be easier if we work together, right?" 

_... Together. Work... together..._ "... Alright." 

"How's hot pot sound?" Shizuo proposed. "It'll get rid of most of these leftovers, that's for sure." 

"Hot pot at three in the morning?" Izaya asked in disbelief, and Shizuo shrugged. 

"Why not?" 

And that was enough of an answer for Izaya, who found himself smiling crookedly. "... Why not, indeed? Hot pot it is." 

The two of them didn't talk much as they worked, but the rattle of dishes filled the still morning air pleasantly. Izaya did pause at one point, mesmerized as Shizuo twirled a pair of tongs in the process of skillfully and methodically flipping gyoza out of a pan. 

"Since when did you learn to cook?" he asked. "Was it while I was away? Were you that bored, that you needed a new hobby?" 

Shizuo glanced at him. "No. I've always known my way around a kitchen. It's not as if I can pull off anything fancy or've taken lessons or anything." 

"How come I never knew you could cook?" Izaya sighed, a bit sore that his knowledge wasn't as complete as he had thought. 

"I dunno," Shizuo murmured. "I just kinda figured it out, y'know? How to make stuff that wouldn't take too long and piss me off. I like food, but I don't have the money to eat out all the time." 

He probably didn't mean the last bit to be a jab, but it still made Izaya cringe. 

"Well... it comes in handy, hmm?" he replied, and Shizuo nodded. 

"Like I said, I'm not all that great," the blonde said, scratching lightly at his face, "...but I could teach you what I know, if you want." 

For a moment, Izaya was tempted to take him up on it. But in the end he shook his head; smiled crookedly. 

"I'd much rather you stick around and cook for me, Shizu-chan." 

They fell silent again after that, the rest of the preparation going by quickly. But as the table was slowly covered with a hodgepodge of dishes, the two boys moving from kitchen to living room, the significance of the missing chair struck Izaya suddenly. 

"You did this on purpose." 

"Eh?" 

"... This." Izaya indicated the table—four sided, with three chairs. "Because of me." 

"Yeah," Shizuo replied easily. "It's your house, isn't it? Why make things more difficult and have to move a chair out of the way every time you want to sit at your own damn table?" 

It was such a simple thing, yet Izaya couldn't put what it meant into words. _"Going to remodel my house to suit your needs, is that it?"_ he had asked Shizuo not long ago. 

_But he wasn't just thinking about himself...?_

"Now this is a midnight snack!" Shizuo commented, sounding satisfied with the spread. But when he sat down, he it was obvious he was waiting for Izaya to join him. When the information broker hesitated, he tilted his head. "You're the one who was hungry, right? Get your flea ass over here." 

"Right," Izaya replied a bit faintly, wheeling himself over obligingly. Shizuo had poured them both a glass of sake, and a sip of it settled Izaya's nerves a bit. The first few bites of food helped further, banishing his hunger as if by magic. 

They talked about inconsequential things as they ate, occasionally falling silent and then picking up cheerful threads of conversation once again. The clink of dishes was the only ambient sound, making for a nice backdrop to their voices. Time passed and the food slowly dissipated, occasional quips but far more smiles exchanged between the two. There was laughter, too—beautiful, unexpected laughter, and they passed the time easily until the warm dawn light filtered into the room hours later. 

Then, with the table all but cleared and dawn upon them, Izaya stretched slowly and luxuriously; yawned. 

"Well... now's the time to start being productive, I suppose, but all I want to do is go back to sleep." 

"Nothing wrong with that," Shizuo replied, then stood. "Can I?" 

"Go right ahead," Izaya invited, spreading his arms slightly. Shizuo came around and pushed him gently into the other room, Izaya humming contentedly as they went. The information broker hefted himself out of the seat and into bed, curling up slightly; the dawn light lay in a strip across his blanket, lending the scene an otherworldly glow. 

"I might just go back to sleep, too..." Shizuo grumbled, rubbing at one eye with the heal of his hand. "Didn't get much rest last night, you know. Just wake me up if you need anything, okay?" 

"Hey, Shizu-chan," Izaya called out, as the blonde turned away. Shizuo paused; looked back over his shoulder. 

"Yeah?" 

"Lay with me," Izaya said, feeling his ears burn at what he was proposing; he kept his eyes closed as he said it. "Come... come here. Don't go back to that stupid futon. The bed is big enough." 

Shizuo looked taken aback—amazed, but hesitant. "Are you sure?" 

"Just get over here," Izaya said exasperatedly, eyes opening a crack. "Don't make me take it back." 

That made Shizuo scramble a bit as he swept around to the other side of the bed, but he was painstakingly careful as he crept onto the mattress and beneath the blanket. Izaya, though without turning to face him, nodded. 

"See? Now settle down and go to sleep." Izaya shifted slightly, trying not to let his nervousness bleed into his voice. But Shizuo scooted closer, and closer still until their bodies barely brushed. 

"Is this... okay?" he asked softly, throatily, as his arm snaked around Izaya's chest. The information broker's heart pounded with something reminiscent of fear, but it didn't overtake him until Shizuo's lips brushed the back of his neck. 

"Shizu...!" The objection emerged as a whimper, and instantly Shizuo backed away across the mattress. 

"Sorry—" he began, but then Izaya had flipped over to face him. It hurt—rolling over wasn't easy for Izaya, let alone so hastily, but the pain was secondary. And, even as Shizuo was drawing further away, he reached out and gripped the blonde's shirt with both his hands. 

"No, it's okay..." he whispered, then dragged himself closer; pressed his forehead to Shizuo's chest. "Don't let me run away _again_. I pushed you away once, and that was deliberate—I won't lie about that anymore. I'm afraid, but I've always been afraid. I want you to hold me. I don't care how terrifying it is. I want you to hold me." 

Shizuo, after a pause, wrapped both powerful arms around Izaya's trembling form and drew him close. A soft growl rumbled through his chest, but it was protective, not threatening. 

"I'll hold you, Izaya. I'll hold you forever, if that's what you want. I'll never let go."

... ... ... 

"Hey, Shizu-chan?"

"What, Flea?" 

"Honestly, what would you have done if I wasn't here?" 

"Eh?" 

Izaya had his arms folded across Shizuo's chest, his head resting atop them; both of the blonde's strong hands were resting lightly on his back, still holding him. When Izaya had woken, he had pushed the blonde gently onto his back and crawled up to lay on top of him; Shizuo, halfway awake, hadn't objected. It was comfortable position—and it lent Izaya a sense of control that soothed him in the face of his proximity with Shizuo. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Izaya said, "but you were going door to door, yes? That was your genius plan to find me, wasn't it?" 

"Yeah," Shizuo confirmed. "That was the plan. Lucky for me you were still in Kanto, or I would have had a much longer trek." 

"You're so simple-minded..." Izaya murmured affectionately, but Shizuo shook his head. 

"Not as much as you think," he growled. "It was less likely you'd _hear_ that I was looking for you if I was just on foot. I knew you'd bolt if you got word that I was coming." 

"... Fair enough," Izaya admitted. "But my question stands: honestly, what would you have done if I wasn't here? You weren't in the best state of affairs when you found me, and you said you'd been out of money since Tochigi." 

"Aaah..." Shizuo growled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "That. Yeah, I was thinking that if you weren't in this town, I'd have to find a job and hunker down a bit to build up some more funds. I hated to break from looking, but I was getting pretty damn hungry. After I got a couple of paychecks collected, though, I was going to move on and keep looking." 

Izaya shifted on his chest; sighed softly. "Such dedication..." he commented. 

"I'd wasted enough time," Shizuo replied simply. "And I did find you, after all. It worked. 

"What about you?" he asked after a moment; Izaya hummed questioningly. "You were in a bad spot when I came in. What would you have done if I hadn't broken in?" 

"For one thing," Izaya said, "it was you who made me fall in the first place. For another, it isn't as if that's the first time I've fallen out of the damn chair. I would've either managed to get myself back up into it or retrieved my phone and called Harukahito-kun and Harumi-chan." When Shizuo made a questioning noise, he chuckled. "Right, you haven't met those two. Well, you met Harukahito-kun briefly when you gave him the week off, didn't you? Aah, we'll have to introduce you soon enough." 

"They've been taking care of you?" Shizuo asked, and Izaya shrugged. 

"What I can't do myself. They run errands for me, mostly." 

"... I'll take care of you, now." 

Izaya wasn't sure how he felt about the idea, but he didn't object. On the one hand, he hated the idea of _having_ to be taken care of by anyone; on the other, it was an entirely foreign idea for someone to _volunteer_ their services—more often he employed people, like Namie, or manipulated them, like Harukahito and Harumi, into tending to his needs. 

And then there was the fact that the party in question was Heiwajima Shizu-chan, the man he loved and who said he loved him in return. 

Izaya raised his head as that thought occurred suddenly to him. _I... haven't..._

"Hey, Shizuo." 

"Hmm?" 

"You said you love me, didn't you?" 

"Mm. I do. I love you, Flea. And you better not forget it or misinterpret me again." 

Izaya gave him a sore smile. "That was your own fault. You told me not to take responsibility for it." 

"I did, didn't I...? Well, now that you know you're gonna have to take some responsibility if it happens again. Got it?" 

"Got it..." Izaya sighed, letting his head drop down again. "But have you noticed that I haven't said it back?" 

"Hmm? Yeah, I guess," Shizuo replied. "Doesn't much matter to me, though." 

"Doesn't matter?" Izaya echoed, confused and a bit insulted. 

"Doesn't matter," Shizuo repeated, one of his arms moving to hold Izaya more securely to him. The information broker stiffened slightly, but forced his fear down. "I'm here with you, and you're letting me be with you. That's all I need." 

Izaya heard a soft, strangled whimpering, and realized a moment later that it had come from his own throat. He buried his face in Shizuo's chest, and felt the blonde begin to stroke his hair in response. 

"I love you, Izaya." 

They lay like that for a good while, each in a similar dreamlike state of disbelief at their current circumstances. But then Shizuo sighed, sounding discontented. 

"I don't want to get up..." he murmured, "but I need to go grocery shopping. Wanna come with me this time?" 

"We can have it delivered!" Izaya said instantly, and Shizuo looked down at him in surprise. 

"Really?" 

"You can have _anything_ delivered nowadays, silly Shizu-chan," Izaya chirped, and held out his hand. "Here, lemme see your phone. What do you want to order?" 

Shizuo obediently fished his phone out of his pocket. "I dunno... I'll make kakuni, if you can get the ingredients." 

"Simple!" Izaya chirped, holding out Shizuo's phone so the blonde could tap in his pass-code. Then, swiping rapidly, Izaya was in his text message history. 

_Celty... Tom... and... Varona...?_ They were only three recently active conversations. There was also one labeled with Kasuka's name, but that one hadn't been active since the month before. _And the most recent texts are to... Celty. Of course._

"We never have to leave the house if we don't want to," Izaya continued lazily, his finger hovering over the conversation labeled with the Black Rider's name. "It's not just a matter of takeout and pizza anymore, though we could order that too if the fancy struck. You can have _anything_ delivered right to your doorstep!" He was also terribly curious about what Shizuo had been speaking to that deplorable Russian girl about, and his finger flicked down to hover over her name, as well. 

"That makes life easier," Shizuo said, seeming oblivious. The blonde closed his eyes, letting his head thunk softly back onto the pillow. "That'd be... nice, to not have to go out..." 

In a flash, Izaya had the messages app closed and the internet open. "Kakuni it is! And Shizu-chan likes sweets, yes? I'll order us a cake! There's a great little bakery just down the street!" 

Shizuo looked taken aback, but then he softened. "You can be real sweet yourself, when you're trying." 

Izaya smiled, then began chattering cheerfully to the supermarket clerk who answered the phone. Shizuo lay silently, though once offering a suggestion that Izaya gladly obliged. Then the bakery was called, and the blonde tried to object as Izaya ordered something that sounded obscenely expensive; the information broker ignored him, that time. 

It surprised Izaya how comfortable it was to lay there—sprawled across Shizuo's chest, moved gently up and down by the blonde's breath. He thought he could lie there forever, and was glad Shizuo had no desire to move any time soon. One he had hung up with the bakery, he returned Shizuo's phone to him and let his head drop back down atop his arms. 

One of Shizuo's hands had begun rubbing the small of his back gently, and Izaya thought he would have to get the blonde to give him a proper massage at some point. 

Izaya's phone, resting on the seat of his wheelchair, began ringing demandingly. Shizuo raised his head just slightly, then wrapped one arm tightly around Izaya to keep the information broker on his chest as he pushed himself halfway up. 

"It's Shinra," he announced, and Izaya snickered. 

"Aah... shoot. He'll panic if I don't answer, you know." The phone stopped ringing, and Izaya laughed harder. "Whoops." 

"We should call him back," Shizuo said, frowning slightly. But Izaya had a wicked smile on his face. 

"This'll be fun, it'll be fun!" Izaya's phone was ringing again, but the information broker pushed Shizuo back slightly when the blonde tried to reach for it. "Let it ring, let it ring a couple of times! See if he calls you next!" 

"You have got to be the sickest son of a—" Shizuo began, but Izaya shushed him as the phone fell silent. 

Sure enough, about half a minute later, Shizuo's phone began vibrating beside his pillow. Izaya giggled madly, then grabbed Shizuo's wrist as the blonde reached for his phone. "Put it on speaker, but you answer!" 

And Shizuo, with a soft sigh, nodded. "Alright..." he grunted, then accepted the doctor's call. "Hey. What's up?" 

"A-Ah...! Shi... Shizuo! Hi! It's me, Shinra!" 

"I have caller ID, Shinra," Shizuo replied dryly. But there was a playful spark in his eyes now, and Izaya covered his mouth with one hand when he noticed. "What's up?" 

"Oh, nothing, really...!" the doctor said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. "Just wondering how you're doing! W-Wow, it's been a few months since you left Ikebukuro, hasn't it?" 

"Yeah, a while," Shizuo replied, but didn't elaborate. 

"Y-You must be... yeah, you must be really glad you finally found Izaya, huh?" Shinra asked shakily, and Shizuo shrugged; now there was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Izaya realized that he loved the expression. 

"I guess." 

"Hey, i-is Izaya... around? I... uh... heh! You know, he isn't answ—I mean! I was wondering! If I could talk to him!" Shinra was grasping at anything he could now, still trying to maintain a casual facade. But even as Izaya prepared to speak, _Shizuo_ held up one hand. 

"He's not available." 

Izaya nearly burst out laughing—Shizuo was getting into the spirit of the trick, and Shinra's strangled silence on the other end of the line was priceless. It was several beats before the doctor managed to gather himself enough to speak. 

"I-Is that... so...?" 

"Yeah," Shizuo replied, seemingly nonplussed. 

"W-Will he... be available any time... s-soon, do you think...?" 

"Couldn't say," Shizuo replied noncommittally, his free hand absently toying with Izaya's hair. 

"... O-Oh...?" 

"Oh." 

"Sh-Shizuo...?" 

"Yeah?" 

"D-Did..." Shinra whispered, sounding genuinely devastated, "Did you really kill him?" 

"Aaaagh!" Izaya saw fit, at that moment, to break in with an overly-dramatic groan of pain. "Sh-Shinra? Is that my dear friend's voice I hear? Oh, aah, I've been slain, Shinra!" 

"I-Izaya?!" the doctor spluttered in alarm, even as Shizuo began to chuckle. But Izaya carried on, clutching at his chest for dramatic effect. 

"Remember me fondly, my friend! Aargh, it is here that I die! Oh, aah! The light...! Shinra, I see the light! Oh, it's Celty! Your beautiful headless angel has come to fetch me, Shinra!" Shizuo burst into hearty laughter, even as Shinra continued to stammer confused questions. "Do not resent me, my friend, for going with her! Trust her, that she won't cheat on you with my handsome, recently departed soul!" 

"You're a horrible friend!" Shinra shouted at last. "Both of you! You should be ashamed! You practically gave me a heart attack, you know! Sh-Shame on you both! Shame! That was a dirty trick!" 

"If you weren't such a nervous wreck..." Izaya purred unapologetically, and Shinra gave an indignant squawk. 

"You're the one who's been crying to me about the possibility of being killed! And here you are, still alive! So you're the last one who should be chastising me for worrying!" 

"Sorry, Shinra," Shizuo put in, still laughing slightly. "But that was fun." 

"You're horrible!" Shinra bleated, then sobbed a bit brokenly. "Just give me a minute to regain my composure! I was almost on the floor, you know? You almost killed me, never mind _you_ being dead! _I_ almost died just now!" 

"Don't be so dramatic," Izaya said teasingly, and again Shinra gave a protesting sob. 

"You're both so unrepentant...!" 

"Sorry, Shinra," Shizuo said again, although he was grinning. 

It took Shinra a long time to speak again, but when he did it was with a heavy sigh. "Well, at least no one's dead." 

"Not in the slightest," Izaya confirmed. "And you were right, by the way. I had to torture you a bit before I could admit it, but you were right." 

"Ha!" Shinra cried triumphantly, then coughed slightly. "What was I right about? About Shizuo not coming to kill you at all?" 

"About a lot of things, actually," Izaya admitted. "But there'll be plenty of time to talk about it all, now." 

"Really?" Shinra sounded intrigued. Then his voice faded slightly as he called, "Yeah, they're both fine! Come say 'hi.' Yeah!" His voice came back into focus as he said, "Celty's here! She says hi to you both! She wants to know if you guys would be up to a video call, so she could talk to you both properly. If you guys want?" 

Shizuo opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when Izaya shook his head. The information broker didn't know why, but he didn't want either his friend or the dullahan to _see_ him—not as he was. Shizuo read that in his eyes, and in the way thin, trembling fingers knotted in his nightshirt. 

"Sorry, Celty. Another time, for sure," he said levelly; Izaya glanced at him, looking altogether vulnerable. "I look like shit." 

"That hardly matters..." Shinra said, sounding bewildered and a bit skeptical. 

Shizuo, with a sigh, resorted to, "Besides, I'm not decent." 

Izaya nearly choked, his anxiety banished by startled embarrassment. Shinra, after a silently stunned moment, made a sound reminiscent of a dying animal. 

"You're not _what_?!" 

"I'm not decent," Shizuo repeated, then sighed in seeming irritation; his arm tightened slightly around Izaya's form, and he held the smaller man protectively to him—serious in the face of his comic excuse. "I mean, the flea at least has a robe on. Me, if it wasn't for the damn blanket..." 

"'Blanket?' You don't mean you're both—?!" Shinra demanded, and Shizuo chuckled. 

"I'll leave that to your perverted imagination, Shinra," he said, then shrugged. "But no video calls this morning, okay? Like I said, one of these days. Sorry again, Celty," he added. "Glad you're listening, though. Shinra can translate for the time being, right?" 

"R-Right...!" Shinra stammered. "She says that's fine. B-But she also wants to know if what we're both thinking is—!" 

"Shinra, I said I'll leave that to your imagination," Shizuo cut him off. 

"Izaya?" the doctor appealed desperately, and Izaya felt his heart jump into his throat. Shizuo glanced down at him and flashed a truly stunning smile—an expression that said, as clear as anything, _Whatever you say, I've got you covered, don't worry._

"A man of my status, Shinra..." the information broker said, without the tiniest tremor in his voice, "... doesn't kiss and tell, I'm afraid." 

"See?" Shizuo asked, in the shocked silence that followed. "Use your—" But he was silenced by the shrieking that erupted on the other end of the line, wincing and covering his left ear, the one closest to the phone.

"I knew it! I knew it, I always knew it! I knew it, didn't I, Celty?! Oh, you—? You never told me he—! Celty, how could you not tell me that?! I feel betrayed! For all the times I've shared my theories with you, you had _confirmation_ —Yes, one-sided confirmation still counts as confirmation!" 

The doorbell rang; it was Izaya who, amid the doctor's shrieking, pushed himself up against Shizuo's chest. The blonde looked at him questioningly. 

"I'll get that while you three sort this out," he announced, then added loudly, "I really need to _stretch my legs_ anyway." 

He wasn't sure why he said it, but he had to; he had to reinforce the image of normalcy. As it was, he rolled carefully into his wheelchair, landing with a slight huff. 

"You okay?" Shizuo mouthed, as Shinra continued to argue with Celty in the background. Izaya nodded, although he wasn't at all secure in the answer. 

"I'll be back in just a sec!" he called, then wheeled himself quickly from the room. The bell rang again, shrilly, and Izaya called, "Coming!" to the deliveryman who was undoubtedly at the door. 

It was a struggle to get to the door as quickly as he did, and it occurred to Izaya suddenly that Shizuo walked intentionally slowly when they were together. But it might seem strange to Shinra and Celty if the doorbell rang a third time, so he pushed himself to move faster. 

"Delivery from Lee's Grocery," the young girl told him, and Izaya clicked his tongue when he saw the three heavy-looking boxes. He had been hoping it was just the bakery. 

"Aah, could you... assist me?" he asked slowly; quietly, on the off-chance his voice would carry back to the bedroom. 

"Certainly, Sir!" the girl replied, stooping to pick up one of the boxes. "Where would you like these put?" 

"The kitchen counter is fine," Izaya said, still in a hushed tone. "And if you could keep your voice down a bit, that would be extremely helpful. My roommate is on a conference call in the bedroom." 

"Of course, Sir!" the woman chirped, in a blessedly quieter voice. The three boxes were brought methodically in, stacked on the kitchen counter, and then the invoice was presented for a signature. Izaya obliged, then bid the delivery girl wait a moment. She did, patiently, and Izaya returned a moment later with a somewhat unnecessary amount of cash and pressed it into her hand by way of tip. 

"I am deeply grateful for your assistance, young miss." 

The girl blushed at his touch, stammering thanks and how it wasn't any extra trouble; Izaya felt a brief flare of satisfaction. He had always been able to charm people into doing his bidding, and that was one thing a wheelchair hadn't inhibited. It reassured him; made him feel like he was still Izaya Orihara, despite it all. 

The delivery girl had barely left before Shizuo poked his head out of the bedroom. "You doing okay out here?" he asked, then said quickly, "I got rid of Shinra, for the time being. Said I should help you put the groceries away." 

"Thanks," Izaya replied, with a slightly sore smile. "Fast thinking there, distracting him from the video call idea." 

"Mmm..." Shizuo murmured, then grabbed the back of Izaya's wheelchair. The information broker inhaled sharply with surprise, but didn't cry out as Shizuo spun him around so they were face to face. 

"Shizu-chan?" 

"What's the matter with your legs?" the blonde asked, towering over Izaya for a moment before kneeling, one hand reaching out tentatively to rest on the informant's shin. "Will you ever be able to walk again?" 

Izaya fidgeted momentarily. "They aren't broken," he answered, "and I'm not paralyzed. And at one point I _could_ walk very short distances, on good days. I probably can't now, because I don't ever try. It never ended well when I did," he added, with a sour expression. "Getting too far from my wheelchair is never a particularly good idea." 

Shizuo nodded a bit thoughtfully. Then, looking up at Izaya with limpid eyes, he asked, "Can I do something?" 

_Depends on what that something is._ That would have been a reasonable reply. But instead Izaya found himself saying, "Sure," and was duly surprised when Shizuo scooped him up out of his wheelchair with powerful arms, cradling him bridal-style. Izaya looped his arms around the blonde's neck institutionally. 

"It doesn't matter to me, you know," Shizuo said, walking slowly back to the bedroom. "If I can push your wheelchair forever, I will. If you need me to carry you everywhere, I'd be happy to." 

Izaya tightened his grip slightly, lowering his face until it was hidden in Shizuo's chest. But when Shizuo sat with him on the edge of the bed, he looked back up. 

"Shinra thinks we did things now." 

Shizuo laughed, taken aback. "Yeah, well his mind would've gone there on its own, anyway." 

"Oh, but I feel so bad lying to the poor fool," Izaya sighed, pulling Shizuo fractionally closer. "I think I should at least make good on my 'kiss and tell' comment." 

Shizuo scarcely had time to look confused before Izaya, loathe to let himself think past his own playful facade, leaned up and pressed his lips chastely, tenderly against Shizuo's. He was shaking, unsteady even in Shizuo's supportive embrace, and felt a sudden surge of panic that he forced down. 

Then Shizuo was kissing him back, and Izaya felt his heart soar high out of reach of the black fear clutching at it. The blonde's lips were surprisingly soft, but just as strong as his potentially deadly hands. He growled softly against Izaya's mouth, gentle but insistent as he moved, kissing the informant again and again. 

Shizuo's mouth was opened, hot and hungry as he ravaged Izaya's lips, embrace tightening. His kisses were clumsy but passionate; Izaya, clearly and confidently the more experienced of the two, responded in kind, guiding Shizuo's head with a hand knotted in soft blonde hair and obliging his eager tongue when it pleaded for attention. 

The friction between them was familiar—aggressive and intimate, like a standoff in the streets of Ikebukuro, although with an erotic edge that neither had ever experienced. It felt safe and tender, yet wild and intoxicating—uncontrollable. 

Shizuo broke the contact first, his breathing rough and throaty—each breath almost a snarl. His muscles were quivering, eyes like captive flames in their sockets. Izaya's chest was heaving, but it wasn't with panic; it was with passion. 

"We... should be... careful..." Shizuo breathed heavily, dipping his head again to brush hot lips against Izaya's cheek. "I won't be able to stop." 

Izaya gave a faint chuckle. "One of these days I might not want you to," he admitted, tightening his grip in Shizuo's hair. 

"How about today?" Shizuo's raspy voice sounded almost hopeful, and Izaya's subsequent laughter was light. 

"Not today, Shizu-chan." 

"Pity..." the blonde groaned, then drew back slightly; Izaya extended his arms to allow it while still maintaining their embrace. "Damn shame..." But he simply laid back, pulling Izaya down with him and settling them both onto the bed, Izaya curled up on top of him. 

"We should get up, Shizu," the information broker said, a bit chastising. "The food will spoil if we don't put it away." 

"Let it," was Shizuo's reply. "I'm not moving for a while. I just need to hold you for a while." 

And Izaya, softening, snuggled deeper into him. "Alright, then. Let it spoil. I need you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading~ Feedback is my reason for living, and constructive critique is always welcome! I'd also be delighted if you'd check out [the tumblr version](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/143953645498/hard-sought-chapter-5) of this fic!  
> I hope to see you all again in the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I have no real excuse. If you must know, I made the mistake of marathoning Aldnoah.Zero which was definitely a fantastic idea. Highly recommend, even if you're not a mecha fan (as I myself am not). 
> 
> Also, apologies for not getting around to replying to comments this time around. /bows repeatedly  
> YOU ALL HAVE MY DEEPEST AND UNDYING GRATITUDE. Q^Q As does everyone who left kudos, or is even just reading silently. You're the reason I post what I write. <3 
> 
> All that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. <3 I'm quite fond of it, myself.

Such prolonged physical contact wasn't at all something that Izaya was used to. He enjoyed it, but it also made his skin tingle and his nerves spark. He had been intimate with people before, but never spent so much time in the arms of anyone—not his parents or family, nor any of the lovers he could have on a whim. As relaxed as he was, physically, he couldn't stop thinking about the incredible circumstances he had found himself in; he couldn't stop dwelling on the fact that Shizuo Heiwajima was resting beneath him, one arm lying heavily across his back. 

_Love... a_ physical _display of love..._ The allure of one-night stands had somewhat lost its appeal part-way through his college years, and casual touch was so unusual for Izaya that it had become strange to him. But this was something entirely different. This wasn't casual or erotic—it was something in-between, more serious and somehow more forgiving. It was truly bizarre, but in the most wonderful and perplexing of ways.

Shizuo certainly seemed to relish it, and for a moment Izaya envied his simple-mindedness. 

As it was, the two of them didn't let the groceries spoil. Before long the doorbell rang again, rousing Shizuo with the promise of cake if he heeded it. He carried Izaya out with him, placing the informant in his wheelchair before answering the door and then tending to the delivery. Izaya simply watched him, enraptured, resting his head on crossed arms on the table. 

"Do you want a piece of this?" Shizuo asked, slicing into the cake. "I know you don't like sweets, but..." 

"No, you enjoy it," Izaya murmured, then arched his back in a long stretch before wheeling himself backwards. He spun slowly, then rolled over to his desk to retrieve his laptop. 

Shizuo waited, standing still until he made his slow way back over to the table. 

"Do you mind?" the blonde asked, setting down his cake. And Izaya, without knowing exactly what he was asking, shook his head. 

"Not at all," he replied, and was a bit surprised when Shizuo picked him up again. He managed to cling to his half-opened laptop, bringing it with him as Shizuo carried him to the other side of the table. The blonde, as he sat down, settled Izaya on his lap, one arm wrapped possessively around his waist. 

"You don't mind, right?" 

Izaya felt a thrill—what would Shizuo's reaction be if he said no? If the absolute truth was to be told, he was frightened. 

"Not at all," he said again, setting his laptop down beside Shizuo's cake. He felt the blonde's chest, against his back, rumble with a contented sound. 

"Good." 

Izaya suppressed a shiver as he opened his laptop the rest of the way, wondering at the feel of Shizuo's warm body beneath his. His legs, as useless as ever, hung limply—his feet didn't touch the ground. 

"I see you're still up to no good," Shizuo growled softly, and Izaya stiffened as the blonde nodded, over his shoulder, to the email he had opened. 

The subject line read: _Homemade Chocolate for your Assassination Needs_

The body of the email said only, _Thank you. Payment has been sent._

"All I did was make sure a client of mine could get access to a certain illegal shipment of... chocolate," Izaya said, though his chest was tight with nervousness. It was exactly the sort of thing Shizuo had taken issue with back in Ikebukuro. 

But all the blonde said was, "You really shouldn't do that," as he took a bite of his cake. Izaya gave a nervous chuckle. 

"But look!" the information broker said, quickly opening up a banking window. Once the numbers had loaded, he crooned gloatingly. "See that last deposit? That's—" 

"Money doesn't interest me, Flea," Shizuo cut him off a bit brusquely, and Izaya winced. "Do what you want, but you don't need to show off to me." 

More nervous since Shizuo wasn't impressed, Izaya wilted slightly and returned to his emails. But he was aware, now, that Shizuo was reading most everything over his shoulder, and that made him less than inclined to open the human trafficking-related email that seemed to be screaming for attention. He knew it was probably time-sensitive, but he still chose to open the email from his secretary, instead. 

_Taka-san said the waterboarding did the trick, and he thanks you for suggesting it,_ the first line read. _Apparently it took six hours to crack the mole, but—_

Izaya slammed his laptop shut, heart hammering with alarming force in his chest. 

He wasn't ashamed; he didn't feel any remorse, and indeed a small part of his mind was analyzing the message and rejoicing that the information he had been after was likely included in the later part of the email. But he was frightened of Shizuo's reaction—nearly paralyzed. 

The blonde growled irritably, and Izaya bristled. "Now what the hell did you do that for?" he asked, taking a bite of his cake. "You're scum—I know that. That you suggested having some poor sap waterboarded doesn't surprise me." 

Izaya gave a nervous laugh. "It doesn't surprise you, perhaps... but, honestly, does it... anger you?" Of all the things he _didn't_ want to do, angering Shizuo was number one on the list. He had the distinct feeling that things would turn sour if he did—if not end with his own death. _Then again..._ he wondered idly, _am I underestimating Shizu-chan again...?_

"I don't think so," Shizuo replied, although there was an edge to his voice. "The way you're acting all edgy is pissing me off more, actually." 

Izaya swallowed hard, feeling a shiver run through his entire body—legs included, all the way to nervously curled toes. 

"Haah... S-Sorry." 

"Just go back to your damn emails," Shizuo growled, biting down on his fork with an alarming snap of teeth on metal. "Look, I did a lot of thinking before I decided to go looking for you—a lot more thinking than I like to do, damn it. I know you're scum, Izaya, and I decided I wanted to be with you anyway." 

Izaya, with the distinct feeling that he had just had just brushed shoulders with _death_ , reached for his laptop with shaking hands. It crossed his mind to ask Shizuo to put him back in his wheelchair, but he decided quickly that would be both useless and potentially provocative. 

Then, Shizuo's hot breath hit the back of his neck. "Did I scare you again?" 

Izaya jumped violently, and in an instant Shizuo's grip on him was tighter—both arms wrapped securely around his torso. Izaya had to fight not to scream, but the embrace wasn't aggressive; Shizuo's voice sounded earnestly concerned. 

"Aah... just a bit. Don't worry about it." 

Shizuo made a discontented sound that set Izaya's teeth on edge. "Sorry." 

"It's okay," Izaya replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's not your fault..." 

"Not yours, either," Shizuo muttered, then brushed his lips against the nape of Izaya's neck; first it was a kiss, then teeth scraped lightly against skin. "Sorry." 

Izaya hadn't relaxed so much as an inch, but he did nod vaguely. "It's... fine, Shizu-chan." He forced himself to press backwards, snuggling against the solid wall of muscle behind him despite the anxiety it caused him. "I just forgot about this potential complication, that's all..." 

"You're not going to give it up, are you?" 

Izaya shivered; chuckled anxiously. "No." 

Shizuo was silent for a long moment, then kissed the back of Izaya's neck again. "Then that's fine," he growled softly. "I won't take part in it, but that's fine." 

"Okay..." Izaya breathed, forcing his fear down and twisting, wrapping one arm around Shizuo's neck for balance. He stared into the blonde's intense eyes for a moment, shivering at the way they smoldered, and then kissed Shizuo's mouth lightly. The blonde blinked in surprise, then grinned and leaned in for another kiss. 

But Izaya turned away, snapping his laptop open again. "Business it is, then!" 

"You're a damn tease," Shizuo snarled, hands working roughly along Izaya's hips. The informant squirmed violently. 

"Eat your cake." It came out as a bit of a gasp, and Izaya groped to pick up a chunk of the dessert with his bare fingers. He meant to smush it into Shizuo's face, but the blonde grabbed his wrist before he could. Just as Izaya was about to laugh and admit defeat, however, Shizuo leaned in and started to eat the cake off his fingers with gentle teeth and a hot, wet tongue. 

Izaya felt dizzying heat crash through him, skin flushing red. Shizuo didn't bat an eye, methodically licking and briefly sucking at each spot where frosting clung to his skin. Izaya couldn't force any air into his lungs, at least not enough to speak. Shizuo made short work of the mess, then kissed Izaya's fingertips lightly before releasing his wrist. 

"Now go back to your emails," he growled, "or I'll see you don't get a damn thing done today." 

Izaya shivered at his meaning, and his hands were shaking slightly when he did return his attention to his laptop. "You're shameless," he scoffed, for the sake of saying anything at all. 

"No more than you," Shizuo replied. 

"Fair enough," Izaya admitted with a sigh, then chuckled. "Quite the pair we make then, ay?" 

"Quite the pair we've _always_ made," Shizuo confirmed, nuzzling the back of Izaya's neck. 

Izaya shivered slightly. Then, steeling himself, he opened up that human trafficking-related email. 

Shizuo didn't respond other than a soft, barely disapproving growl and a nip at his ear; then, without even speaking, he returned his attention to his cake and let Izaya go about typing a reply.

... ... ... 

"Hey, so... Izaya?"

"Hmm?" The information broker, sipping a cup of barely tea contentedly, didn't look over. He was gazing out at the busy city street over his balcony, relishing the bird's eye view of all the lovely humans bustling about. 

"Do you miss it?" Shizuo asked quietly, and Izaya's eyes flicked briefly to him. 

"Miss what, Shizu-chan?" 

The blonde let out a smoke-laden breath. "... Any of it," he said vaguely. "Ikebukuro... walking... fighting... any of it." 

"Honestly, why do you ask?" Izaya replied, and Shizuo thought for a moment. 

"Because I'm curious." 

The information broker laughed. "So simple-minded, Shizu..." he said fondly, and took another drink of his tea. "Well, I don't miss fighting with you. I'm frightened, you know. I was never afraid of you in the past. I suppose I miss that—not being afraid of anything." 

"Kadota talks about you sometimes. In a good way." 

Izaya's eyebrows arched. "Dotachin does...?" 

"Yeah." Shizuo directed his gaze upward. "That kid, too—Ryugamine. And Simon. And of course there's Shinra... and I don't think Celty misses you, exactly, but you know." 

Izaya frowned slightly. "I made a nuisance of myself in many lives, Shizu-chan. I'm not surprised people still talk about me from time to time." 

"It's not that, though," Shizuo said, then took a drag at his cigarette. But as Izaya watched him, he didn't elaborate. 

"Let's go back inside," the informant said eventually, shivering in the evening chill. "We'll both catch cold if we don't. Or at least I will—I think you're immune to those types of things." 

"Right," Shizuo murmured, snuffing out the rest of his cigarette and taking the liberty of gripping the handles of Izaya's wheelchair. Izaya let him; leaning back slightly as he was rolled gently inside. The door frame, still largely lacking in glass, was slid shut out of habit. 

"Ne, Shizuo?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Honestly, do _you_ miss Ikebukuro? Do you want to go back?" 

Shizuo answered promptly. "I want to be wherever you are." 

"But honestly, do you miss it?" Izaya's hands were trembling; he hated thinking about the answer, and he loathed the part of him that needed to ask. But more than the ghost of Shizuo Heiwajima, the ghost of that city haunted him—the ghost of Ikebukuro. And if Shizuo kept bringing up such things, Izaya feared the city's presence would never fade from his life. 

Shizuo was silent for a long moment, and Izaya began to consider retracting his question. He heard the handles of his wheelchair creak as Shizuo's hands clenched. 

"Shizu-chan, I—" he began to say, but was cut off. 

"Ikebukuro used to be my city, Izaya. It was mine when it was yours. Yeah, I miss it. But if you're not a part of that city anymore, it's not where I belong, either." 

The metal creaked again, clenched harder until it was in danger of snapping. But Izaya's fear was less than paralyzingly, and he reached back to lay one hand over Shizuo's. 

"Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." Shizuo's voice was a bit strained, and Izaya could feel the tension in the tendons of his hand. But he wasn't snapping; he was close, but he wasn't losing his temper. In the interest of supporting him in that effort, Izaya didn't speak again as they made their way into the bedroom and, surprisingly easily, crawled into bed side by side. Shizuo stretched to reach the light, then tucked the blankets up around Izaya and himself with obvious care. It was Izaya who snuggled close first, but Shizuo was quick to respond and wrap his arms tightly around the smaller man. 

The peaceful silence was broken only once more, in fact, as they both closed their eyes. It was broken by Shizuo, with a tender, primal growl of, "I love you, Izaya..." as they drifted into sleep.

... ... ... 

Izaya's phone woke them both.

"It's a client..." the information broker mumbled, then yawned. "Have to take this, Shizu-chan. Sorry." 

"It's fine," the blonde replied simply, stretching. "I'll go start breakfast." 

Izaya nodded as he swiped to accept the call, trying to keep the sleep out of his voice as he spoke. He stretched, shuddering slightly as his client replied—with exactly what he wanted to hear—and then confirmed the terms of their agreement. 

But the client's next question caught him off guard. 

"Do you have a personal life, Informant? Or is your business all you have?" 

"That's a bit out of your realm of concern," Izaya replied coolly, though wholly unnerved. 

"We just had a deal go south because of... personal feelings that got involved," the client explained. "I just hope we won't have a similar issue with you." 

Izaya shivered slightly. "Rest assured, dealing in information is my meaning, and the finest joy in my life." Hadn't he said something similar to Shiki once? He had believed his own lie then. But now Shizuo's face was in vivid focus behind his eyes, and he swallowed nervously—thankful the conversation was happening over the phone. 

"Good," the client replied. Pleasantries were exchanged, then, and the call ended; Izaya sat still, phone resting in his lap, listening to the sounds of Shizuo moving about in the kitchen. 

_Not only is he... a complication..._

_... but if I misstep..._

_... he'll suffer, too._

Just as he was about to rise, however, Izaya's phone buzzed again—briefly, a text message alert. 

"Izaya? It's Celty. Available to talk?" 

After considering the message for a moment, Izaya typed, "Did Shinra give you this number? He's a worse friend than I thought," and hit send. 

"No, he didn't. But the pass code on his phone is easy to guess." 

"2-3-5-8-9, isn't it? (✿´ ꒳ ` )" 

"... How'd YOU guess?" 

"It's your name, my darling dullahan. Simple. (^_-)—☆" 

"Well, that's how I got your number. Don't be mad at him." 

"Of course not. He's rather impossible to stay mad at, as you undoubtedly know." Izaya smiled fondly as he typed it. 

"He is," Celty replied, but didn't say more. 

"So why the sudden text, my dear?" Izaya asked eventually, and watched the little dots for several minutes as Celty typed. 

"I need to know for sure that Shizuo is okay. He's a precious friend of mine, you know. And he's suffered at your hands. When he said he was going to look for you, I tried to dissuade him. I thought he was imagining things, trying to fill the gap you left in his life with anything, even if that meant that looking for you had to be his new purpose in life. But then he said that he thought he was in love with you, and I couldn't argue with that." 

"Why are you telling me this?" Izaya asked. "And why now?" 

"Because I was dreaming about him last night," was Celty's reply. Then she continued, typing, "I used to find him standing outside Raira all the time, gazing up into a certain window. When I finally asked him what he was looking for, he said you." There was a pause, and then another message came though. "He said he was trying to figure out what he really felt that day, the first time he saw you." 

Izaya stared quietly at the screen, hearing Shizuo curse quietly in the kitchen as something clattered to the ground. Then, "Did he ever tell you his conclusion?" 

"Yes, once," Celty replied. "That's what I was dreaming about. It was about a week before he left. He was standing there, looking up into the building, and he told me. 

"'Desire,' he told me. 'It wasn't hatred, it was desire. I couldn't tell the difference back then. And now, if he was to show up in that window right now, somehow, it'd be love.'" 

Izaya thought for a long moment. Then he asked again, "Why are you telling me this?" 

"Because I want you to realize how deeply this runs for him," Celty replied. "I saw what he went though in Ikebukuro, after you left. I wanted you to know that it wasn't an easy time for him." 

"I know it wasn't," Izaya replied. "When he showed up at my door, I could tell that much, at least. ╮(˘︿ ˘)╭" 

"But you had no idea how important you were to him," Celty said. "If you had, you wouldn't have thought he was there to kill you." 

"Granted," Izaya replied. "But that was the fault of his own poor communication skills. ヾ(`⌓´)ﾉﾞ" 

"Just like you to blame him." 

Izaya winced; the message, though it lacked tone, stung. 

"I get it, okay?" he typed, a bit defensively. "I know. This isn't exactly easy for me, either, and it certainly isn't something I would take lightly." 

"You take other people's feelings and lives lightly, Izaya." Celty's text was unapologetic. "You've never taken your effect on other's lives seriously." 

For several moments, Izaya was powerless to reply. Then, from the kitchen, Shizuo's voice drifted to him. 

"Hey, breakfast's ready, whenever you are." A moment later, his head appeared around the corner. "You're off the phone?" 

Izaya nodded, though he couldn't gather himself to reply. Shizuo took a cautious step forward.

"You okay?" 

Izaya nodded. "Fine, Shizu-chan. I'll be out in a second." 

"Want me to carry you?" the blonde offered, and Izaya shook his head. 

"Thanks, but no. Just give me a sec." 

Though clearly unconvinced, Shizuo ducked back out of the room. Izaya, with a steadying breath, looked back down at his phone. Her message was still waiting for a reply. 

"That may be true, but I've never taken love lightly. And I'm not about to start now." He felt a fluttering in his chest as he hit send, but he didn't give himself a chance to second-guess the message. Celty's response took a nerve-wrackingly long time to arrive, and when it did it was surprisingly simple. 

"I'll hold you to that, as his friend." 

"I'd expect you to, friend of my Shizu-chan," Izaya replied promptly, then stretched luxuriously and let his phone drop onto his pillow. As he wriggled into his wheelchair, however, he thought that moving just might have gotten easier, as of late. 

He got properly dressed before leaving the bedroom, willing to laze about the house with Shizuo but reluctant to stay in his pajamas the whole time. When he finally emerged, however, the blonde was waiting—clearly impatiently. 

"Important phone call?" 

Izaya nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah. Gotta keep up, you know. It is my means of living." _And yours now, Shizu... you know that, right?_

But Shizuo surprised him by saying, "If you want to cut back on it, I'll pick up a job somewhere." Then he added, hastily, "Not 'cause I don't like what you do, even if I don't. If you want to keep on with it, doesn't matter to me. But if it's stressful, or you want to take a break, I'll pick up the slack." 

Izaya found himself smiling, once the shock had faded. "You're so thoughtful..." he murmured, then shook his head. "It's fine. I love what I do—you know that." 

Shizuo nodded reluctantly. "Yeah." 

Wondering if he should also tell Shizuo about his conversation with Celty, Izaya wheeled himself the rest of the way over to the table. "What did Tom think when you told him you were leaving?" 

"He said he wished I wouldn't, but he knew why I had to," Shizuo replied, his tone melancholy. 

Izaya remembered his brief peek at Shizuo's text message history. "Do you miss working for him?" 

"Not really," Shizuo replied, then admitted, "but I do miss him." 

"Give him a call, then," Izaya urged, taking a bite of rice. "That's where technology comes in handy." 

"Maybe," Shizuo murmured, still seeming downcast. Izaya frowned slightly. 

"And Kasuka? Have you been in touch with your beloved brother?" 

"Let's not talk about this," Shizuo growled suddenly, and Izaya cringed. The chopsticks in Shizuo's hand snapped, and he flung them thoughtlessly onto the floor. 

Izaya knew that he should heed Shizuo's words. But he couldn't, for some reason or other. 

"Honestly, Shizu-chan, do you think it's selfish of me to keep you here with me? 

Shizuo glowered at him. "Of course it's selfish, you flea bastard. It's just something else I've decided to deal with." 

"You could go back and visit," Izaya offered. "It's not like Ikebukuro's going anywhere, and you could trust me not to disappear." 

Clearly displeased, Shizuo growled, "I'm not one of those people who tries to have everything at once. I don't need that kind of pain in my ass. Now drop it, alright?" 

Izaya considered his options. He could see Shizuo's hands clenching and unclenching in the table cloth. He knew that if he pushed, just a bit more, he would see the blonde snap. And a small, inexplicable part of him wanted to do just that. 

But in the end he raised his hands, palms upturned. "Fine. Just trying to help." It wasn't true, but then again Shizuo knew it wasn't. No harm in lying, he thought, if the other party didn't believe it. 

Shizuo, indeed, glared at him. "Bullshit." 

Izaya shivered. "Bullshit," he admitted sheepishly, shaking his head. "Sorry." 

"Doesn't matter," Shizuo grunted, but he did rise from the table. "I'm going out for a smoke." 

"Come back soon," Izaya called after him, and Shizuo paused. 

"You know I will," the blonde murmured, then slipped out onto the balcony. 

Izaya watched him for a moment, then glanced at Shizuo's unfinished breakfast. _I should just give him a minute..._ the larger, more rational part of him thought. 

But the smaller, far more passionate part of him said, _Follow._

After a momentary struggle to orient himself, Izaya set off across the room. He made if as far as the broken door, however, and discovered that Shizuo hadn't bothered to open it; he had simply stepped over the jagged edge on the ground and through the broken pane. The threshold posed a much more serious obstacle for Izaya in his wheelchair, and the informant wondered sorely if Shizuo had done it on purpose. The blonde hadn't turned, though he was scarcely two meters away. 

Izaya's first inclination was to call out, but something stopped him—some union of pride and determination. He paced slightly, back and then forth; leaned experimentally back. He stared mutinously and analytically at the ridge of broken glass, then glanced back up at Shizuo's unmoving form. 

He also could have opened the door frame, but that would have been admitting defeat. 

Taking a deep breath, Izaya rolled forward and jerked his front wheels up; they made it over the obstacle, landing with a jarring _thud_. But Izaya realized he had miscalculated when his momentum pulled him forward, hind wheels rolling quickly toward the glass that would, at best, puncture them; at worst they would catch on the ridge and he would be thrown forward. 

Just as he was bracing himself, a foot landed firmly on his chest, stopping his forward motion and forcing the breath from him. 

"You should have just opened the door, if you didn't want to ask me for help." Shizuo's leg was extended as if in a kick, but there had been no such force behind it. He retracted it slowly, then stepped around and lifted the back end of Izaya's wheelchair, guiding it effortlessly onto the balcony. 

"That would have been cheating," Izaya replied breathlessly, and Shizuo shook his head. 

"Of course. That's sure your type of idiocy right there." 

Relieved that Shizuo didn't seem to be angry, Izaya just smiled and took the jab. Shizuo parked his wheelchair, then stood beside it and leaned out over the railing. 

They didn't speak, though Izaya kept stealing glances up at Shizuo. The blonde seemed completely occupied by smoking his cigarette, his eyes fixed on some arbitrary point in the distance. 

Then, in the interest of honesty, Izaya said, "I miss it too, you know. Just not enough to go back." 

Shizuo nodded. "Figured." 

Perturbed, Izaya continued. "It was a lot more painful at first. But I've made myself a new place here. I've shut the book on Ikebukuro, and that was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." 

"I get it," Shizuo replied, then took a long drag of his cigarette. "... I get it. So let me do the same, if it's true we're never going back. Don't ask me if I miss it—I'm trying to forget how much I miss it, got it?" 

Izaya's eyes widened. "Shizuo..." 

Shizuo glanced over at him, visibly surprised. "Hey. You called me by name just now." 

Izaya, feeling heat rise to his face, scrambled to cover his slip. "I-It won't become a habit," he huffed. "You just caught me off guard." 

But Shizuo's smile melted his defenses more rapidly than he would have thought possible, and then the blonde was crouching down in front of him, cigarette forgotten, hands on the information broker's knees. His warm eyes grew closer, and then closer still; Izaya was powerless, and even then unwilling to move back. 

"When I can touch you, it doesn't hurt at all." His voice rumbled in his chest, and suddenly his eyes caught fire—not just warm but blazing, and Izaya shivered in the face of that heat. For the sake of not becoming totally paralyzed, Izaya reached forward and tangled his fingers in those lush blonde locks. 

"Then touch me. I'm not afraid anymore." 

Shizuo's nails tore the kneecaps of his slacks as the blonde surged up, lips mashed to Izaya's. He tasted like his cigarette—like smoke from the fire Izaya had glimpsed in his eyes. Then his hands were grasping at Izaya's hair; the nape of his neck; his shoulders; his chest; his hips; his back. Izaya nearly shrieked with the intensity of the onslaught, but any sounds he might have made were swallowed by Shizuo's ravenous mouth. 

Their contact was brief—too intense to be drawn out. But when Shizuo drew back, the plea for permission was clear on his flushed face. 

"You've ripped my pants," was all Izaya said, flatly but faintly, "and now you want to do more damage?" 

"I'll be gentle," was Shizuo's growled response, hands clenching and unclenching slightly in Izaya's shirt. "I can be gentle." 

"Who's to say I'll want you to be, when the time comes?" Izaya asked, and Shizuo gave a groan as his head dropped back. 

"'When the time comes...'" he echoed exasperatedly, then got slowly to his feet. "You... Flea... with be the death of me...!" 

Izaya never had a chance to reply—even as Shizuo spoke, he hefted Izaya's wheelchair up in it's entirety and spun it, making the informant squeak and cling tightly to the chair. But Izaya was laughing by the time Shizuo stepped carefully back into the house, swinging him around once more before setting him down with a rattle of metal. 

"You'll be the death of me!" Shizuo said again, but he was grinning. And Izaya found he could smile back easily. 

"That's just how it is between us, Shizu-chan. A constant battle of life and death."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tell me what you guys thought! Comments, commentary, kudos and critique are all loved! <3 I'll see you very soon in the next chapter~ 
> 
> Notes are also appreciated on [the tumblr version of this fic](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/144636080488/hard-sought-chapter-6). ;w; Also, [Durarara!! RairPair Month](http://drrr-rarepair.tumblr.com/) is coming up in June, and I'll be posting hella fics for that on my writing blog (and probably a few here). If you guys want to start dropping pairing requests or prompts, my askbox is 110% open!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was counting on this fic being four-ish chapters? What happened?? 
> 
> I am _deeply_ sorry for the delay! DRRR Rare Pair Month has been monopolizing my time, admittedly. But I set myself a deadline of today to get the next chapter out, so here it is! 
> 
> Earnest and enthusiastic thanks to everyone for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter~

Izaya _ached_. 

The bed was cold—so cold, and suddenly much too large. In a half-conscious panic, Izaya groped at the blankets beside him. 

_A dream..._

_Was it..._

_... a dream?!_

"Shizu...!" His voice, like that of a pensive child, was faint with his own hesitance. The thought that he was wailing to a phantom was unbearable, and his throat closed up as if to prevent any other sound from emerging. 

And then there was the fear. 

_He'll kill me...! He'll really kill me, this time...!_

"Izaya?" 

Shizuo's voice—it couldn't be real, could it? Was it? Even as Izaya scrabbled at his blankets he also floundered toward full consciousness. 

_Wake up... wake up!_

And then there were hands on him, their mere touch sending electric pain crackling down his spine and through his useless legs. 

"Izaya, are you alright?" Shizuo asked, though his own voice was drowsy and confused. "Did you have a nightmare? What's wrong?" 

Trying to keep himself grounded in what had to be reality—what he _knew_ was reality—Izaya shook his head. "F-Fine... I'm fine..." But his voice came out breathy and faint. Grasping at what dignity he could salvage, he let himself be pulled into Shizuo's lap and cradled there. 

"Sorry..." Shizuo breathed. "If I could fight nightmares, I'd kick their asses. I'd kill 'em." 

Izaya chuckled faintly at the absurdity of it, but nodded into Shizuo's chest. "It's fine. Just stay with me, would you?" 

Shizuo growled an affirmation. "Sorry," he said again. "I just went for some water. Want some?" 

Izaya shook his head. "I'm fine..." 

"Okay," Shizuo replied, easing them both back down onto the bed. But he kept Izaya cradled to his chest, and after a bit of wriggling got them both tucked beneath the covers, Izaya curled atop him. "I'll stay." 

"I lost it there, for a second..." Izaya admitted. "I couldn't remember if you were really here." 

"God damn it, Izaya..." Shizuo rumbled, his hands clenching in the informant's nightshirt. "If there's one thing you can take for granted, it's me. You got that?" 

Izaya nodded vaguely. "I know... I know." 

"You know, you know...!" Shizuo echoed in frustration, his grip becoming almost painful. "Then remember it." 

"Don't you forget sometimes?" Izaya asked. "Honestly, Shizu-chan... don't you sometimes find yourself on the lookout for knives?" 

"If you stabbed me, it wouldn't make a shred of difference." 

That made Izaya laugh honestly. "It wouldn't do a shred of damage, either—even less than it used to do." 

Shizuo's grip tightened again, and Izaya felt his heart quicken as that mind-boggling strength made his bones creak. There was pain, too—like the ache he had felt when he woke, but both worse and considerably more welcome. He thought that being crushed to death wouldn't be a bad way to die, not if it was in a loving embrace. 

_Did I just...?_

He contemplated death—in such a way, at the hands of Shizuo Heiwajima—and it did not frighten him. 

"Shizu..." he complained mildly, "you're crushing me." 

"Oh." The blonde quickly loosed his grip, and Izaya felt it become considerably easier to breath. "Sorry." 

"It's alright..." Izaya murmured, shifting his head so that it was resting more comfortably against Shizuo's chest. "Do it any time, really."

... ... ... 

"I was starting to think I'd never see it with my own eyes!" Shinra crooned, wriggling slightly in his desk chair. Izaya laughed.

"'Starting to think?'" the informant asked. "You should have given up long ago." 

"I-I-I can't believe y-you're actually sharing a—!!" Celty held up, then looked away. Then it was Shizuo's turn to laugh. 

"Sleeping alone gets old, y'know?" the blonde asked. "You know, Celty. You've got Shinra, right?" 

The laptop was sitting on Shizuo's outstretched legs, though with the blanket directly under it. Izaya was cuddled up to the blonde's side, his own legs tucked up beneath him and out of view. 

"You're both looking well, though!" Shinra said happily, though he added, "Even if you're looking even thinner than I remember, Izaya. You need to watch that." 

"Don't worry, Shinra," Shizuo said. "I've been doing the cooking since I got here." 

"Still haven't learned to cook then, Izaya?" Shinra asked, a bit exasperatedly. 

"Why would I, when I have my dear humans to do it for me?" Izaya replied snidely. 

"Don't lump me in with 'your humans,'" Shizuo growled mildly. Izaya glanced up at him in amusement. 

"But you are human. And you are _mine_." 

"Still," Shizuo growled, leaning in and biting at Izaya's ear. "You're _mine_ , too, so don't say stuff like that." 

"You two are looking well, too!" Izaya chirped into the webcam, ignoring Shizuo's steadily-roughening affections. Celty clearly _couldn't_ ignore them and turned away, hands up to where her face would have been. 

"Right, right, things are pretty stable around here," Shinra replied cheerfully, although his smile was a bit too giddy. "A bit boring, even, now that _both_ of you are gone." 

Izaya felt an unexpected stab of regret, and Shizuo broke off his aggressive play to change the subject. 

"Is there a wedding date yet, Shinra? How long are you two going to stay engaged, seriously?" 

Celty, who had just lowered her hands, flew out of the frame as Shinra laughed. "Well, we certainly can't hold a wedding without you two here! I don't have so many friends that I can stand to lose two of them, you know!" 

Izaya laughed at Shizuo's look of consternation. _Dear Shizu... thwarted effortlessly in your attempt to change the subject. But I appreciate your efforts._

"You should go ahead and do it, Shinra, really," Izaya said, partly to assure Shizuo that he wasn't entirely shaken by the subject. "You're in love. It hardly matters how many witnesses are there." 

"Thanks, Izaya!" Shinra said brightly, as Celty staggered back into view. "Love is love, regardless of witnesses. Though I'm proud to bear witness to the fact that you two have _finally_ gotten together," he added gleefully, and Izaya waved him off with a chuckle. 

"I'm relieved you're doing so well, Shizuo," Celty held up. "I really was worried, you know. And I wish you both the best." 

"Thanks, Celty," Shizuo said, his voice warm. "That means a lot." 

"I had better be careful," Izaya said playfully, snuggling down into Shizuo's chest. "If I do you wrong, I'll have an angry dullahan out for my head, isn't that right?" 

Celty didn't respond, but both Shinra and Shizuo laughed as though it were a joke. Izaya grinned in similar fashion, but kept his gaze serious. 

_I remember our conversation, dear Celty. And I don't intend to go back on my word._

Celty eventually nodded. Then, to match the outwardly light tone of the exchange, held up, "What are friends for, except to threaten their friends' significant others?" 

"Does that mean I can come after you if you break Shinra's heart?" Izaya shot back, and Celty crossed her arms. 

"I think I've proven myself pretty well. You, Orihara, have an uphill battle, if I may say so." 

"Would you fight for me, Celty, if my dear friend Izaya decided you weren't worthy?" Shinra asked eagerly, though the question only earned him a punch to the gut. "Aah... punch him just as fiercely when you do fight him, okay...?" 

Izaya laughed honestly, his heart lifting as he watched their exchange. Shizuo's arm tightened around him fondly; the blonde, too, was smiling. 

"It's good to talk to you guys," Shizuo said, and Izaya nodded. 

Shinra flashed a peace sign. "Same here! We need to do this more often!" 

Celty, too, gave a thumbs-up.

... ... ... 

"You were really okay with that?" Shizuo asked, snuggling against Izaya in their shared bed. The information broker was lying on his back, hands folded on his chest as he stared contemplatively at the ceiling.

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Reminders." 

Izaya laughed. "You're one to ask. You're the biggest reminder of all, Shizu-chan." But even as the blonde began to object, Izaya shook his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm not _that_ fragile. Besides," he added, "Shinra _is_ my friend. And I think I have a better handle on what that means now than I ever did in Ikebukuro." 

Shizuo gave a soft growl, then fell silent for a moment before saying, "You know, Celty helped to convince me to come looking for you." 

"Hmm? Really?" 

"Yeah." Shizuo sighed. "I don't like thinking about things like this, Flea. Having a friend to _talk_ about them to... it really helped." 

"I can imagine..." Izaya murmured, thinking of how he had reached out to Shinra when Shizuo first appeared. It had been the _only_ viable choice, in his mind, despite everything that might have stopped him from making that phone call. "I should listen to Shinra more often, too." 

"That pervert doctor isn't the most reliable source of information." 

"He was right about us." 

"... I guess I have to give him that," Shizuo sighed. "I still can't believe he was spinning tales about us back in high school." 

"I would think he would have mentioned it to you," Izaya replied. "He certainly tried to tease me about it often enough." 

"He probably knew I'd smash his skull in for mentioning it." 

"Ah. So he does have at least an ounce of discretion in him." 

Shizuo chuckled. "Maybe half an ounce." 

That made Izaya laugh more openly, and suddenly Shizuo had rolled to crouch over him. Izaya obligingly lifted his chin to let the blonde kissed his neck. 

"Y'know, Shinra was right today, too..." Shizuo murmured, lowering himself and nuzzling along Izaya's hip, making the information broker squirm. "You were _bones_ when I first showed up, and you still are. You don't look so gaunt now, at least." 

"Leave it to sensitive Shizu-chan to point out that I'm starting to get fat," Izaya scoffed, trying to fight the embarrassed flush creeping over him. But his attempts were thwarted by Shizuo's reply. 

"Stupid... not fat. Healthy. You're looking _healthier_ , Flea. I'm glad." As if that weren't enough, he carried on in the midst of Izaya's flustered silence. "Your color's better... you don't look like you're having such a hard time moving... that annoying gleam is back in your eyes... you don't seem so tired... 

"You look healthier." 

After another stunned moment, Izaya shoved halfheartedly at the blonde's shoulder. "Get off me, you sentimental brute... off, I say!" He raised one foot to kick vaguely at Shizuo's solid form, but even as he did so it occurred to him that he was proving Shizuo right. Not too long ago, moving his leg to that extent would have been next to impossible. 

The realization knocked the breath from his lungs and he forced himself to chuckle, then flopped back onto the bed in a show of surrender, arms above his head. Shizuo responded by snuggling up beside him, drawing him close. 

"I love you, Izaya..." the blonde growled, his breath hot on the curve of Izaya's neck. The information broker moved one arm to encircle Shizuo's head, tangling his fingers in the other man's blonde locks. 

"... Thank you, Shizu-chan..."

... ... ... 

The Mito evening was more peaceful than Izaya would have fancied, and the street below his apartment was relatively deserted. His balcony, too, was silent and still, although anything but empty. Shizuo, standing beside him amid a vague haze of smoke, was all the company he could have desired. Still, the lack of external stimuli allowed Izaya's thoughts to wander and, inevitably, turn inwards.

The informant sighed heavily. The sound startled Shizuo, who jumped and dropped his cigarette over the railing. 

"Jeez, Flea...! What?" 

Izaya, mildly amused, looked up at him. "I've figured it out. The thing I miss the most." 

Shizuo tilted his head. "Oh really?" 

"Oh really," Izaya confirmed, resting his head on the balcony rail. "I miss being able to fly." 

"'Fly?'" Shizuo echoed. 

"Parkour," Izaya elaborated. "You know I felt like I could fly? Like gravity was a nonentity. Like I was a winged god who could pick any vantage point in the entire city to watch over my humans from. Nothing could bring me back down, not even you. I miss that." 

Shizuo regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, but Izaya scarcely noticed his inspection. He was only halfway waiting for a reply, and was caught totally off-guard when Shizuo reached down and scooped him out of his wheelchair. 

"Hang onto me, okay?" he growled, and Izaya looped his arms obligingly around his neck. Usually Shizuo held him with both hands; in that moment, he had shifted him so that Izaya sat almost on his hip, like a young child might, leaving one hand free. 

Then Shizuo was atop the balcony rail, and leaped from the fourth story apartment. 

Izaya gasped at the rush of air around them as they fell, but Shizuo sprang off the streetlight below Izaya's window. Then he was climbing, scrambling up the apartments across the street and pulling them both onto the roof. 

Izaya could only cling to Shizuo, his breath left back on his own listless balcony with his abandoned wheelchair. 

Shizuo crossed the rooftop in several long strides, and then they dropped into free fall again. Izaya felt a familiar rush of adrenaline before Shizuo caught a window ledge, perhaps the exact one Izaya himself would have aimed for, and used the handhold to propel them both upward again. He found footing on an apartment building sign, launching them across the street and over the swirling, deadly flow of traffic. Shizuo scrambled briefly for footing on the opposite side, then landed heavily on a storefront awning and leaped off it, grabbing a street sign and swinging himself to crouch atop it for a moment before springing off it with the distinct sound of snapping metal. Izaya pulled himself slightly higher up against the blonde's powerful body, gasping with the effort; feeling the solid muscle beneath him ripple with supernatural power. 

Shizuo didn't pause or slow; he clearly had a destination in mind, and Izaya's heart leaped when the building came into view—the tallest building in Mito, the Ibaraki Prefectural Government Building. The sheer face of glass windows should have presented a formidable obstacle to anyone looking to climb it, but Shizuo didn't pause or flinch; simply tightened his grip marginally on Izaya and launched himself upwards, feet and fingers exploiting the smallest cracks and ledges. He only slipped once, a heart-stopping lurch of a misstep that made Izaya laugh breathlessly. 

And then, all at once, they were soaring over the roof's edge. The wind intensified, no longer blocked by the bulk of the building, and Shizuo landed heavily on the concrete. Then he turned Westward, back toward their small apartment, and their surroundings unfurled like a glittering carpet beneath them. 

"How's this?" Shizuo's rough voice was right in Izaya's ear, his breath heavy. He lowered them both slowly to the ground, settling Izaya on his lap at the very edge of the roof. 

"This... this is spectacular..." Izaya breathed, then choked softly on some unnameable emotion. For a moment he was enraptured by the city beneath them and, far beyond, the ridge of sea visible at the horizon. "This is... Shizuo, it's..." 

Lost for words. 

Desperately lost. 

It struck Izaya with the weight of a guillotine blade. At street level, any city was mistakable for another. When he gazed out at the humans bustling about below his balcony, or watched the display of blinking of street lights, or listened to the buzz of traffic, it was all mistakable—similar, and comforting in that regard. 

But from where he now sat, with Shizuo cuddling into him from behind and the city sprawled out at his feet... 

_It isn't..._

"Shizu-chan..." 

"Hmm?" the blonde asked, nuzzling contentedly into the side of Izaya's neck. The information broker, however, was wide-eyed; disturbed. 

The horizon wasn't the familiar shape he wanted to see. The streets didn't fall into the lovely pattern he could trace by heart. The buildings were all misplaced. The sea didn't even belong in the picture. The very height of the sky was wrong. 

_This isn't my city._

_This isn't_ our _city._

"Shizuo, let's go back to Ikebukuro." 

The blonde made a surprised sound. "What's this all of a sudden?" he asked, but Izaya only shook his head violently. 

"You'll come with me, right? You'll come with me back to Ikebukuro?" 

Shizuo softened, then picked Izaya up and spun him around. The informant's legs curled automatically around Shizuo's waist. 

"I'd follow you anywhere, Izaya. But nowhere'd make me happier than Ikebukuro." 

Izaya felt himself begin to smile, but then the tears were coming—tears because he missed it, and tears because it would be terribly hard to go back; tears because he finally knew he had to go back, and tears because he was so, so relieved. 

Shizuo crooned gruffly, wiping strongly at Izaya's eyes with the heals of his hands and then kissing him sweetly. Izaya let him, powerless to respond; drained and desperate to be comforted, which Shizuo seemed more than willing to do. 

It was the strength he could feel in the blonde beneath him, the gentle control of the kiss and the power of the hands that held him, that lent Izaya the courage to whisper, "I want to walk again, too." 

Shizuo drew back slightly, clearly surprised. But his eyes were shining as he met Izaya's watery sorrel gaze. 

"I don't want to go back like this," Izaya murmured, then bent forward and let his head rest lightly on Shizuo's chest. "I want to be able to walk back into that city on my own feet. With you. Equal. I want to be able to make it my place again. I want it to be _our_ place again." 

"It will be," Shizuo growled, arms tightening around Izaya like a vice. "Of course it'll be ours again. We'll _make_ it ours again, okay? We'll go back... and make it ours, Izaya. 

"It's always been ours. We're just going back to claim it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to leave a comment and/or kudos! Honestly, nothing means more to me. <3  
> This fic is [also on tumblr](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/145984748008/hard-sought-chapter-7), and notes are always appreciated. Feel free to drop prompts and suggestions by my inbox over there, too! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I AM SORRY. Thank you for sticking with me. (੭ु´･ω･`)੭ु⁾⁾
> 
> Now for the actually important story notes:
> 
> So I never thought this fic would have an actual… plot……  
> ……  
> … the kids had other ideas.
> 
> If you’d like to read up on Harukahito and Harumi (or however you prefer their names to be spelled?) check out this link! It’s not necessary, but this is the information that I (as someone who hasn’t actually read Yuyake Wo) am working off of. The rest of Yuyake Wo’s events will likely be ignored for the duration of this fic, so please consider this fic to be officially in the category of Alternate Continuum.
> 
> Thank you for your continued readership, and I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter! <3

“Do you think something bad happened to Izaya-san while we were gone?”

“If something did, it’ll be your fault.”

It had been a week–as per the blonde stranger’s instruction–since either Harukahito and Harumi had seen their self-appointed guardian.

“That’s not fair!” the boy objected.

“It is,” the girl replied. “What sort of idiot trusts someone they’ve never seen before?”

“We both trusted Izaya-san, didn’t we?”

“… That’s different,” the girl said softly; meaningfully.

Harukahito puffed out his small chest. “I know what I saw! Heiwajima-san is a good person, just like Izaya-san!”

“You don’t have any proof of that,” Harumi murmured, but then sighed softly. “Well, I suppose we’ll see soon enough…”

The two children were standing, bickering as they were, outside of Izaya Orihara’s door at the ungodly hour of five o'clock am, the soonest they could justify coming over while still respecting the time period of a week that Harukahito had agreed to. The boy, with a slightly nervous shiver, retrieved his spare key from his pocket; slipped it into the lock and turned it with a soft _click_.

The door swung open easily, and the two children glanced at one another. The lights were on, stark in the face of the pre-dawn darkness outside. Harumi was the one who led the way over the threshold, although Harukahito closed the door behind them and then pulled ahead of the girl.

“Izaya-san?” the boy called, even as the two rounded the corner into the living room. They both pulled up short, taken by the scene they had walked into.

“Ah! Harukahito-kun! Harumi-chan!” Izaya Orihara greeted them, from where he sat at the end of a dining room table that had certainly not been there a week earlier. There was a gaping hole in one of the walls, about the size of the also-new chair sitting off to the side, and the night air filtered in through the broken patio doors. Shizuo Heiwajima, the blonde stranger, was just emerging from the kitchen with a tray of dishes in hand; he had paused, eyes locked on the two children. “How lovely to see you both!”

“Are you okay, Izaya-san?” Harukahito asked worriedly, trotting up to the man’s shoulder and tugging at his sleeve with one hand. “I’m sorry we left you.”

“I’m fine,” the information broker said warmly, resting a hand on the child’s head. Shizuo, relaxing slowly from his stiff stillness, continued to the table to set down the dishes he was carrying.

“You’re… Heiwajima-san, then?” Harumi asked, and the blonde looked over at her. She flinched slightly; there was something animalistic about him–something dangerous. But then he smiled, and in a way that made her bones rattle with contentment.

“Yeah. You can call me Shizuo, though. Nice to meet you, kid.”

“Harukahito,” the boy introduced himself, hurrying over to Shizuo to make his presence known. “Her name is Harumi!”

Shizuo smiled down at him, as well. “Nice to meet you, Harukahito-kun.” He nodded to the girl. “Harumi-chan.”

“Come eat with us, both of you!” Izaya invited them, motioning to the table. “We were just getting a hotpot set up. And hotpot is meant to be eaten by more than two people, you know?”

The children exchanged a bewildered glance. The boy thought he recalled Izaya speaking about hotpot several times, but it had been in an idle and dreamy way. He wondered what significance the dish held, and tried to pinpoint why he felt as honored as he did, asked to join in what seemed to be an early-morning celebration.

Then Izaya asked, quite suddenly, “What would you two think of moving to Ikebukuro?” 

… … …

“I think this is the place,” Izaya said, tapping at the computer screen that was bathing his face in bluish light. The room was otherwise dark. 

Shizuo, hidden in the shadows behind him, tightened his arms around Izaya’s waist. “I still think we should drag Shinra over here,” he growled. “But if you don’t want to…”

Izaya shook his head. “It’s easier to appear weak in front of strangers, Shizu. Shinra will never know about all this, not if I can help it.”

Shizuo made a discontented sound, burying his face in Izaya’s shoulder. “But how am I supposed to trust complete strangers with you?”

“Strangers, perhaps, but professionals,” Izaya said soothingly. “And you’re whiteness to my intensive research on different facilities. It’ll all be out-patient, besides.”

“Money’s no object,” Shizuo murmured. “If I have to work, I will. I’ll go out and find a job today.”

For Izaya, money never _had_ been an object. But Shizuo was from a different financial background, and his concern was touching.

“Don’t worry about that, Shizu. It won’t come to that.”

“… Well, make sure you tell me if it does.”

“I will,” Izaya relented. “But I do really like the look of this place. You approve?”

Shizuo didn’t look up. “No. I don’t approve of anyone else putting their damn hands on you.”

Izaya sighed softly; fondly. “I know.”

There was a hesitant tapping on the door frame, and both Izaya and Shizuo looked up to see Harumi silhouetted against the light of the living room.

“Rohyo-san is here to see you, Izaya-san.”

“Thank you, Harumi-chan,” the information broker said brightly. “Show him in, if you would, and serve him some tea. I’ll be out in a moment.”

The girl bowed slightly, backing up. But her eyes were on Shizuo as she left, and the blonde gave a soft growl.

“It’s bad enough I have to share you with those two.”

“They’re _children_ , Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, exasperated. “Don’t get _that_ territorial. It’s flattering, but unbecoming.”

“The girl is the same way,” Shizuo pointed out. “The boy, not so much. But _she_ never takes her eyes off me. It’s like she’s sizing me up, and that _pisses me off_.”

Izaya felt his stomach twist at the phrase. Shizuo’s arms tightened around him a fraction more, making it quite suddenly hard to breathe.

_The last thing I want…_

“Shizu, you’re crushing me…”

Shizuo’s grip loosened instantly. “Sorry…” he mumbled into the back of Izaya’s neck, but the informant could tell he was still stewing. He hadn’t snapped since their explosive argument, when he had thrown the large armchair through the apartment wall, and Izaya couldn’t shake the feeling that the very ground beneath them was unstable.

“… Help me up, Shizu-chan. Don’t want to keep the client waiting.”

Shizuo grunted an affirmation, holding Izaya effortlessly as he swung his legs off the bed. He rose, lifting Izaya with him for a moment before placing the informant in his wheelchair. Izaya murmured thanks, then watched critically as Shizuo lowered himself back onto the bed.

They had agreed, only recently, that Shizuo was to stay out of sight when clients were over. To Izaya, it seemed obvious. It had been a hard battle to win, however, and Shizuo had insisted on at least staying in the apartment while meetings went on. The return to a more normal routine–work, in-person meetings rather than phone and email correspondence only, the presence of the two children–was soothing to Izaya. To Shizuo, they represented an unwelcome disruption.

_When we go back to Ikebukuro it’ll get worse… don’t you know that, Shizuo?_ Izaya thought, even as he blew a kiss to the blonde settling himself back on the bed. _Not only will I have my work, and not only do I intend to bring Harukahito and Harumi along with us… but you’ll have your friends, and I’ll have my other precious humans… perhaps you’ll even return to Tom’s employ, finances notwithstanding…  
_

_The whole point of returning is to avoid isolating ourselves, even if that would be easier. We’ve decided not to run.  
_

_… Do you realize that, Shizu-chan?_

But as unsettling as those thoughts were, Izaya pushed them from his mind as he rolled out to meet the local drug smuggler called Rohyo-san. It was the first time he would be meeting with the kingpin of the group called _Lindworm_ , and he had to put every ounce of his strength into showing well.

“Ah, Rohyo-san. Sorry to keep you waiting,” Izaya said with a smile, coming into view of the red-haired man seated at his new dining room table. Harumi stood at the man’s shoulder, an empty tray in hand; the visitor held the cup of tea that that tray had undoubtedly brought in his meaty hand. The man rose from his chair.

“An honor to finally meet you, Orihara-san,” he said, offering his free hand. “Your intelligence has served us well too many times to account for.”

Izaya’s answering smile was bright. “It’s my pleasure, truly.”

Harumi vanished to fetch more tea as Izaya situated himself at the chair-less side of the table, meshing his fingers together. The girl returned a heartbeat later with pastries and more tea, then stood stationary behind Izaya’s wheelchair.

Negotiations moved quickly and smoothly; though it wasn’t _his_ city, the informant had a solid handle on the goings-on in Mito–that was his job, and he was good at what he did. The drug lord left satisfied, and Izaya was more than happy with the transfer to his account. He could have easily thrown a wrench in the drug lord’s plans–he had been planning to, and undoubtedly would have if all things had been equal. As it was, however, the financial security that the _client_ afforded was much more important than any entertainment that the _human_ might provide.

The information broker had other plans now, after all; larger plans. Life wasn’t just an endless game of human emotions to consume at his leisure.

“He gone?” Shizuo asked gruffly, rolling his neck as though it was stiff as he emerged from the bedroom. Izaya nodded.

“By a minute or two. Thanks for staying put, Shizu-chan.”

“So you’re not allowed in this area of his life.”

Izaya felt an unpleasant prickling at the sound of the girl’s voice, and Shizuo’s eyes narrowed. Harumi was still standing directly behind him, almost forgotten in her steadfast silence.

“It’s not that I’m not allowed,” Shizuo said softly. “It’s that I _respect_ him enough to back off when he asks me to.”

Izaya almost called him on the blatant bluff, but bit his tongue at the last moment. This wasn’t simple banter–Shizuo was doing his best to defuse the situation. An image of the young Akane Awakusu popped into Izaya’s mind, and he remembered noticing how uncannily good Shizuo was with her. He could only hope that this young girl would be as easily won over.

As it was, Harumi–just like Izaya himself–didn’t buy the blonde’s line. “That’s not why you obey him. You obey because you’re afraid of losing him.”

Izaya’s jaw dropped; he might have laughed, had the scene not been happening in his own living room between two people he very much wanted to get along with one another. As it was, he could only wonder why on earth this child was _baiting_ a beast like Shizuo Heiwajima.

Shizuo seemed similarly confused, but his eyes were also flashing with the beginnings of anger. Still, he shook his head firmly and looked away.

“You shouldn’t be taking guesses like that, kid.”

Izaya had just decided to step in when the other child appeared, his feet pattering audibly on the floor. Harukahito skidded bodily between the two quarreling parties, though that was likely coincidence.

“Izaya-san, Izaya-san, Rohyo-san is back! He’s waiting at the door!”

The information broker’s relief at the interruption totally overrode his anxiety regarding the client’s return. “Shizu, if you would.” He nodded meaningfully toward the bedroom. “And Harumi-chan, do me the favor?”

The girl obediently took up a position behind his wheelchair, and Shizuo begrudgingly vanished from the room. Satisfied that the argument had been averted–and swearing silently to have a talk with Harumi–Izaya turned his attention once more to the business of illicit drugs.

“Orihara-san, I’m afraid I forgot to mention one thing,” was Rohyo’s greeting in the doorway, and suddenly Izaya wasn’t so certain that all was well.

“Yes? And that would be?”

“Rumor gets around, you know?” the man asked calmly. “Of course you do. That’s your business, after all.

"If you treat us like pawns, Information Broker, we’ll crush you with everything we have.”

Izaya felt an unexpected shiver–not fear, but not exactly the excitement he was used to. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied easily. “A group of your status? Underestimating you all would be suicide.”

“Good.” The man bowed–a facade of civility. Izaya returned the gesture and thanked fate that Shizuo was out of earshot.

“I look forward to seeing you again, then. I see a long and fruitful business relationship in our future.” He gave a parting nod, and then the door swung shut; Izaya breathed a soft sigh of relief.

“That was a lie, wasn’t it?” the girl breathed against his ear; Izaya nodded.

“Maybe not at this exact moment… but in the future, that could most definitely be deemed a lie.”

There was a smile in Harumi’s voice as she asked, “This is a secret from Shizuo-san, isn’t it?”

And Izaya, although knowing full well it might inflame the situation, could only reply, “Yes, my dear–our little secret from Shizu-chan. But you shouldn’t go out of your way to anger him, you know. He’s quite a dangerous creature when angered, let me tell you.”

“Just like you, Izaya-san?”

“Just like me,” the information broker confirmed, feeling a chill run down his spine. The girl knew much more than the boy–Harumi had always been sharper and, dare he admit, more dangerous. She saw her apparent savior for what he really was, as opposed to the boy who worshiped him for the sake of his own self-preservation. “But you’re in no danger of having your bones smashed to pieces by your guardian Izaya-san. Baiting Shizu-chan is a sure way to get yourself hurt.”

“I’m not baiting him,” Harumi retorted. “I’m gathering information. You should at least recognize your own strategies.”

Izaya chuckled. “True… but I hardly disregard threats to my _life_ when I gather information.”

“You won’t let us be hurt, Izaya-san.”

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

“If you intended to turn your back on us,” Harumi said softly, “you wouldn’t have asked if we’d come to Ikebukuro with you.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t have,” Izaya admitted, with a wry grin.

“… I don’t trust you,” the child whispered, and Izaya shrugged.

“And you probably shouldn’t. But don’t pick fights with Shizuo, at least. That wouldn’t end well for anyone involved, not you and not him and not dear Harukahito-kun.” As Harumi was drawing breath to reply, Izaya pressed onward, adding, “It wouldn’t end well for me, either, but I’m hardly worth consideration in this case.”

After a beat, Harumi’s reply was, “Don’t try to convince me that you’re thinking of anyone but yourself. It won’t work.”

Izaya felt a momentary sense of defeat–a disappointment in himself, as well as a distinct fear of what the future could hold. “I… probably deserve that.”

“You do,” the girl said with certainty, then turned Izaya’s wheelchair back toward the interior of the apartment–putting an obvious end to the conversation.

“Just… do be careful with Shizu-chan, won’t you?”

“We’ll see.”

… … …

“Izaya-san’s going to walk again?” Harukahito asked excitedly, hopping in circles around his still wheelchair-bound guardian. Izaya smiled fondly at him, twisting to fix the cloak that the child had handed him into place. “Will you play with me when you can walk again? Can we play tag? Harumi never wants to play tag or hide and seek or wrestling or anything! Will you play with me, Izaya-san?”

“I’ll play with you, Harukahito-kun,” Izaya promised softly, and Harukahito gave an excited shout. “Now run off and stay out of trouble while I’m gone. Don’t leave the house without calling, me, okay? Keep an eye on Harumi-chan, too.”

“Right!” the child chirped willingly, bowing rapidly and then darting off. Shizuo’s eyes were narrowed, but Izaya turned without acknowledging him.

“Shall we, Shizu-chan?”

The blonde looked, for a moment, as if he was about to say something, but in the end he only nodded and opened the door. Izaya guided his chair easily through it, although he paused and let Shizuo take control once they were on the sidewalk.

“I’m staying to watch.”

Izaya had lost track of how many times they’d had the conversation. “No you aren’t, Shizu-chan.”

“You couldn’t stop me.”

“I could legally have you removed.”

“I’d fight ‘em off in a heartbeat.”

“That wouldn’t end well, and we both know it.”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t risk that kind of ending by calling the damn cops.”

“Oh wouldn’t I? I could always bail you out afterwords. I wouldn’t press charges.”

“No god damn jail cell could keep me away from you, anyway.”

Izaya smiled–a soft, crooked smile. “But you’ll respect my wishes, won’t you, Shizu?”

The blonde was silent for a moment. Then, “I’ll be there for the consultation, anyway. I’m _going_ to be a part of this, anyway.”

Izaya’s smile deepened; spread to his eyes, even as he closed them contentedly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

… … …

Izaya remembered being able to limp along somewhat painfully when he had first been released from the hospital; he had been able to stand to reach things, move more easily in and out of the bath, and even pick himself up when he fell. He’d been able to stretch properly in the morning–luxuriously.

But at some point he’d given up even that mobility. It became easier to heft himself into the bed or bath with his upper body alone rather than shuffle those few steps; he lost the desire to reach for high shelves, or even put things away in their proper place. And walking–if you could call it that to begin with–became altogether more inconvenient and undignified than it was worth.

He expected, therefore, duly dismal news after his physical exam and assessment was finished. He was relieved to meet up with Shizuo briefly in the lobby of the rehabilitation center, then have the blonde walk by his side when he was summoned to the physical therapist’s office.

“Orihara-san,” the man greeted him graciously, then turned to Shizuo. “And…?”

“Shizuo,” the blonde answered gruffly. “Heiwajima.”

“Heiwajima-san, then,” the doctor acknowledged, then sat down behind his desk and motioned to the empty chair across it. “Orihara-san had mentioned his roommate wished to be involved in his rehabilitation. Welc–”

“I’m not his roommate,” Shizuo cut him off, voice rising slightly. His eyes flashed to Izaya, irritation flickering there.

The informant laughed nervously; shrugged. “No, you most certainly aren’t,” he agreed, choosing to avoid the later argument by coming clean. He hadn’t meant to hide anything, just disclose as little as he could about his private life. Also, how should he…? “Shizu-chan is my boyfriend, Akiko-sensei. Forgive my attempt at simplification.”

The doctor looked surprised, but recovered quickly. “Well, that’s just as well,” he said, even as Shizuo lowered himself slowly into the chair beside Izaya’s wheelchair. “It’s excellent that you’re motivated to help with Orihara-san’s recovery process, and I’m sure he’ll benefit greatly from your efforts.”

Shizuo hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I hope so.”

Doctor Akiko meshed his fingers. “Shall we begin, then? We’ll start with today’s basic diagnostic.” He pulled a tablet computer towards himself; tapped a few buttons, and hummed as a page loaded. “We use a rating scale of 1-10 to pinpoint your physical state, with 1 being bedridden and 10 being fully functional. I’d put you, Orihara-san, at a 4.”

Izaya flinched slightly, but reasoned that it could have been worse. Personally, he might have put himself at a solid 3.

Shizuo growled softly beside him.

“Typically we recommend a schedule of three appointments per week, plus accompanying at-home exercises,” the doctor continued.

Izaya spoke suddenly, heading off his follow-up. “What’s the maximum number of sessions that would be safe?”

Dr. Akiko let out the breath he had drawn to speak, then thought for a long moment. “… Four, in your condition,” he answered slowly. “That’s pushing it. I wouldn’t approve more than that, and I might recommend we reduce it to three or even down to two if it doesn’t seem to be working out.”

“Are you sure he won’t end up doing more damage?” Shizuo demanded, hand tightening around his armrest. Izaya shot him a baleful look.

“That’s why we’ll be monitoring him closely, as we do with all our patients,” the doctor soothed. “As I said, we may reduce the frequency of appointments if we see something we don’t like.”

“I can handle it,” Izaya said dismissively. “I’d like to get… back on my feet, so to speak, as soon as possible.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid!” Shizuo growled, his head swinging toward the informant. “If you hurt yourself, it’ll just take _more_ god damn time! Use your head, Flea! Think ahead! Isn’t that something you’re supposed to be good at?”

Izaya narrowed his eyes apologetically, privately disturbed by Shizuo’s raised voice. The doctor looked curious, too.

“I know that, Shizu. I’ll be careful.”

The blonde snorted, then swung back toward Dr. Akiko. “You better keep a _real_ close eye. If anything happens, it’ll be _your_ fault and no one else’s!”

Dr. Akiko looked understandably unsettled, and Izaya hurried to move the conversation along. “When can I start? How soon?”

“This Friday,” the doctor replied, though his eyes stayed locked with Shizuo’s. Izaya wanted to smack _someone_ –himself or Shizuo, he didn’t quite know–but kept his voice level.

“Excellent. I’ll look forward to it.”

“And what about me?” Shizuo growled, his voice still low but less aggressive now, at least. “How am I going to help?”

The doctor took a moment to reply. “… Well, aside from helping with his at-home exercises, which we’ll send home information about, you can make sure he keeps generally healthy habits–eating well, enough sleep but not excessive, and things of that nature.”

Shizuo nodded seriously, the last of his hostility dissolving. “I can do that. I _will_ do that. Yeah.”

“I can count on my Shizu-chan, can’t I?” Izaya asked warmly, liking the blonde’s new demeanor much more.

“You know you can,” Shizuo murmured, reaching over to tangle his fingers roughly with Izaya’s. It hurt, but the informant bore it dutifully.

Once the necessary paperwork was in order, Shizuo rose and stood patiently as Izaya gathered himself. The informant appreciated his silent vote of confidence in front of the doctor: _I know you can handle yourself._   

But he also trailed just a bit behind the blonde, and paused in the doorway to speak once more to the doctor.

“I’ll pay for the chair, of course.”

Doctor Akiko looked genuinely confused, so Izaya motioned to the chair that Shizuo had occupied. Both armrests were messes of splinters, and the doctor paled visibly.

“Expect a transfer within the day,” Izaya continued, then smiled brightly and waved. “I look forward to working with you.”

Shizuo was holding the lobby door open, and Izaya nodded gratefully. Once they were outside, the blonde attempted to take control of the wheelchair, only to have Izaya shake his head.

“Let me see your hands, first.”

Shizuo scowled. “They don’t hurt.”

“Let me see,” Izaya repeated stubbornly, and the blonde yielded. His palms were scratched; bleeding, if only slightly. Izaya sighed wearily. “You poor beast.”

Shizuo grunted, moving once again to push Izaya’s wheelchair; the informant allowed it, this time.

“It doesn’t hurt your hands?”

“How fragile do you think I am?” Shizuo growled. “Stupid flea…”

“I know you can _bear_ pain,” Izaya replied, “but I don’t want that to be the case. I don’t want you to be in pain at all.”

“I’m not,” Shizuo grunted. “So quit worrying.”

Izaya sighed; leaned back and relaxed into his wheelchair. He wondered if he would miss being pushed around, then decided quickly that he would rather not answer that question.

“How’d you get a hold of those two kids, really?”

Izaya blinked in surprise, craning his head to look up at Shizuo; the blonde had his eyes fixed ahead.

“Honestly, Shizu-chan, are you really thinking the worst of me?”

“I kinda am, Flea. I’m hoping you’ll tell me I’m wrong.”

Izaya swallowed; wondered how Shizuo would react to the truth. It wasn’t as if he regretted what he’d done, and it wasn’t as if he would do it differently. He just hated to think about how much Shizuo would disapprove of his part in the deaths/incarcerations of the children’s parents. It hadn’t been phrased as an “honestly” question, so there _was_ the option of lying… though, surprisingly, Izaya found that he would rather not resort to that.

“I can’t tell you that, Shizu-chan.”

“Hmm… thought so.” The blonde was silent for a moment, then said, “I hope you don’t think you can just leave them, after all this.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have invited them to come back to Ikebukuro with us,” Izaya replied, a bit sorely.

“Right. Guess not…” Shizuo murmured.

“I’m not as cowardly as I used to be, Shizu-chan,” the information broker said calmly.

“I noticed,” Shizuo admitted. “It’s… nice.”

That made Izaya laugh, but he was being honest when he said. “I’m glad it pleases you.”

… … …

Shizuo, as he had been doing, made dinner. He could hear Harukahito, in the living room, chattering excitedly about something he had seen on television that day; he could hear Izaya murmuring agreeable things at regular intervals. He was surprised, however, when the other child materialized behind him.

“Izaya-san isn’t a good person.”

Shizuo glanced over his shoulder at the girl. “I know that,” he grunted, but Harumi shook her head.

“You and Harukahito think he’s someone to cherish. He’s not. Harukahito should be allowed to think that, but you’re different. You’re an adult, like Izaya-san. You’re his equal.”

“Damn straight I am,” Shizuo murmured, then huffed crossly at his own gruff language. “Sorry.”

“You should distance yourself from him.”

“Look, kid, I know Izaya,” Shizuo growled. “I know what I’m getting myself into, okay?”

“You don’t,” the girl said stubbornly. “He’s a bad person. He’ll hurt you.”

Shizuo’s brow arched. “I thought you liked him.”

“I don’t,” Harumi said softly. “I hate him.”

The blonde’s teeth ground; with an effort, he wrestled down his anger. “I appreciate the warning, kid, but I’ve known him long enough to–”

“Do you know why he’s like that?” the girl cut him off. “He crossed the wrong person, and now he can’t walk. I don’t care what he says, either–he’ll probably never walk again. That’s what he deserves, and worse.”

“I know,” was Shizuo’s only reply. “ _I’m_ the one who put him in that wheelchair.”

The girl’s next words died on her tongue, leaving her mouth agape slightly in their absence. With a tremendous effort Shizuo turned from the stove, leaving a dent in the pot handle, and crouched down to the young girl’s level.

“We fought a lot, he and I,” he said slowly. “But in the end, I won–that’s how he saw it, at least. That’s why he left Ikebukuro. That’s why he’s in that wheelchair. And the really weird thing is, I don’t regret a second of it–our history, I mean.

"But eventually I figured out that I wanted him back. So I came looking for him, and I found him. And now I’m never letting go of him, even if he is the same old piece of scum loser that I used to fight with. But there’s more to him then that, you know? He’s stupid and he’s self-serving… and he’s got a really badly twisted sense of logic, and he’s a coward, and he’s got one hell of a god-complex… he’s garbage, really… a rotten, stinking flea, but…

"He’s also one of those damn wonderful people who’s capable of loving with everything he’s got, so much so that it scares him. And whether you believe it or not, I think he cares for you and the other kid, too, regardless of whatever he did to you.”

Harumi closed her mouth slowly; stared at the man crouched before her with liquid, glimmering eyes. Then, forcing each word out individually, she said, “Then you’re my enemy, too. I’ll use Izaya-san until neither of us, Harukahito or I, need him anymore, and then I’ll _destroy_ him. If you get in the way of that, I’ll take you down, first.”

Shizuo let out a heavy, weary breath. “Look, kid–” he began, but was cut off by an angry sizzling from the stove. Jumping up, he cursed at the broth boiling over madly. Harumi took the opportunity to ghost out of the kitchen, and was long gone by the time Shizuo turned to speak to her again. “Damn it…

"Stupid flea…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading! Please leave a kudo or comment if you feel so moved, such things give me precious life! Notes on [the tumblr version of this fic](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/148520739808/hard-sought-chapter-8) are also very much appreciated! ;u; 
> 
> Next chapter is good, guys. I almost can't wait to show it to you guys. >w


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Th-Thank you guys for your support and readership! I hope the new chapter is worth the wait! :'3 
> 
> ~~I DONT KNOW WHERE THIS NEW SUBPLOT IS GOING (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~   
>  ~~also my anatomy nerd is showing pls dont pay it mind...~~

"Shi~zu~chan... 

"Good~mor~niiing~" 

Shizuo grumbled sleepily, even as Izaya dragged himself more fully onto the blonde's back. It was an awkward army-crawl-esce maneuver, and he wondered idly if it would soon be easier. For the time being, he settled himself in comfortably with his head on the blonde's shoulder. 

"Your chin is sharp..." Shizuo complained mildly, and Izaya chuckled before tilting his head slightly. 

"Better?" 

"Better..." 

Staring into the lush blonde hair inches from his face, Izaya reached over to tangle his fingers in it. "Gonna let it grow out?" he asked, stroking brunette roots among blonde strands. "Or are you going to dye it again?" 

Shizuo gave a noncommittal grunt beneath him. 

"I've never seen you with brown hair..." Izaya continued idly. "Shinra showed me a picture once, but you were very young in it. Such a small little beastie... You looked so very angry... You had a cast on your arm! ... Shinra said you clobbered him for snapping the picture... I think you should consider going back to brown... if you want my opinion... or maybe try re—aah!" 

Izaya's words ended in a yelp as Shizuo surged up suddenly beneath him, flipping their positions and pinning Izaya roughly to the mattress. His smile had an edge to it, and the information broker felt a thrill in his bones. 

"You talk a hell of a lot, you know that?" Shizuo asked, a vein visible on his forehead. His hand clenched tighter in the pillow for a moment, and Izaya swallowed. 

"Shi—" 

The blonde gave a tremendous groan before Izaya could even get the name out, slumping down heavily onto the smaller man and growling ill-temperedly, "It's too early in the morning for this, Flea..." 

Izaya gave a nervous chuckle. "I agree, Shizu-chan. What say we get some breakfast before we continue this?" 

"You mean how about _I_ make some breakfast..." Shizuo muttered crossly, and Izaya patted his shoulder briskly. 

"I'll help, I'll help, Shizu! You need only to let me up and I'll help to the fullest of my invalid's ability!" 

The blonde grunted, then rolled to the side with an obvious heave. Izaya let out a soft sigh of relief, sitting up with a bit of a struggle. 

There was a knock at the bedroom door. 

"Izaya-san? Are you awake yet?" 

Izaya drew breath to answer the boy, but was abruptly silenced by a hand across his mouth. Shizuo, all at once, wrestled him into an unnervingly tight embrace. 

"Izaya-san?" came the voice again, this time accompanied by Shizuo's throaty growling. 

"Don't you dare answer him, Flea..." the blonde murmured, lips hot against the skin of Izaya's neck. "I'll have you to myself... for a few damn more minutes..." 

The information broker gasped softly for some semblance of breath, but didn't try to call out; he didn't dare. Shizuo's mouth roamed idly down his throat and across his clavicle as they laid in silence, leaving kisses and bites all along Izaya's pale skin. The boy called out once more, but then his footsteps receded audibly. 

"Alright, alright..." Izaya groaned, wriggling but not trying to get free of Shizuo's grasp; the blonde didn't falter. "Let me up, Shizu. I've got my first therapist appointment at eleven. Let me up...!" 

The blonde muttered something disgruntled, but again didn't move. Izaya felt the beginnings of panic tighten around his rib cage. 

"Honestly, Shizuo, let me up...!" 

The blonde looked at him in surprise, tightening his grip marginally. "Isn't that just for questions, Flea? Don't try to change the god damn rules on me..." 

Izaya suppressed a shudder within those too-right arms. "Sorry, Shizu-chan..." He couldn't forget the time when being caught in such an embrace would have meant broken bones, at best—at the worst, death. 

Shizuo's frame rumbled briefly with a growl, but then his grip eased. "Still afraid of me, eeh...?" 

"Not afraid," Izaya objected, but it was a bit of a lie. Shizuo, with a groan, stretched and flopped back with his arms wide, one still beneath Izaya but no longer curled up around him. 

"Can't blame me..." he muttered, narrowed eyes staring up at the ceiling. 

"Honestly, Shizu, I can't," Izaya admitted, crawling up onto Shizuo's chest and kissing him sweetly—partly to reassure the beast and partially to hide how entirely shaken he was. 

Shizuo grunted and heaved himself up into a sitting position, pulling Izaya up on his lap. "Sorry..." the blonde grumbled, and Izaya shook his head. 

"It's fine, Shizu. Comes with the territory." 

There was another knock at the door, and another voice—the girl's, this time. "Izaya-san. We've prepared breakfast." 

Shizuo grunted, even as Izaya laughed nervously. "See? And you don't even have to make breakfast, after all." 

"Those damn kids are going to drive me batty..." he growled, then scooped Izaya up; placed the informant in his wheelchair before stalking off toward the bathroom. Izaya watched him with hooded eyes, then moved with an effort to the bedroom door when the blonde had vanished. 

"Morning, Izaya-san!" the boy greeted him happily; the girl simply bowed. 

"Good morning, you two," Izaya responded cheerfully, then wheeled his way toward the kitchen. The kids had indeed prepared a surprisingly presentable breakfast, and Izaya wondered why he hadn't ever noticed that they could cook. 

... Furthermore, why he was seemingly the only person besides the damn dullahan who didn't know their way around a kitchen. 

"Where's Heiwajima-san?" 

"Freshening up," Izaya replied, not turning to face the girl. "I'll be doing the same as soon as he comes out. I miss having a bathroom to myself, but I can't exactly displace you two from the guest room." 

"You were really awake earlier, weren't you? When Harukahito came to fetch you." 

"What gives you that idea, Dear?" 

Harumi didn't answer; Izaya listened to her steps recede, breathing a sigh of relief. He turned his attention, then, to dishing the breakfast, wanting everything to be ready by the time Shizuo emerged. Harukahito, after a moment, appeared at his shoulder and began to help cheerfully. 

"Your turn, Flea..." Shizuo growled, when he emerged with a small towel draped around his neck. Izaya nodded towards the set table; Harumi was already seated, silent. 

"Go on and start; I'll just be a minute." 

Ignoring the tension crackling across the room, Izaya made his arduous trek back to the bedroom, then into the bathroom. He took a moment to examine himself in the mirror—noted that, despite the wheelchair visible in the frame, he both looked and felt more like the information broker who had fought over the territory of Ikebukuro with the blonde beast that dwelt there. 

When Izaya reemerged, he found the dining table surprisingly—but thankfully—peaceful. Harukahito was the only one making conversation over the clink of chopsticks on porcelain, but that was normal. Shizuo had almost finished the food Izaya had set out for him. 

"Be sure to eat all of it," was the only thing the blonde said, when Izaya glided up to the table. He pointed his chopsticks at the informant's place-setting. "You'll need your strength for that rehab appointment today." 

Izaya smiled as he picked up his own utensils. "I know. I'll be sure to, Shizu-chan. Thanks."

... ... ... 

Trying to walk _hurt_. Izaya felt his face twist involuntarily as he forced his arms to slacken; let as much weight rest on his legs as they could possibly take. He could have easily supported himself with his upper-body alone, on the double-barred apparatus they were having him walk on, but that would defeat the purpose of the exercise.

His pain tolerance was impressively high, anyway, and he had already decided to push himself as hard as he possibly could. 

There had been a time when he was strong—not as physically strong as his Shizu-chan, but strong enough to match the beast in his own way. His endurance had been something near unthinkable by human standards. It had been life and death chases which had pushed him to those standards—he had decided to approach this physical therapy with the same high-stakes frame of mind, and in such a way reclaim his old state of being. 

Izaya's hip gave way suddenly with an ominous _pop_ , and he went down with a strangled curse. His legs, locked into braces as they were, splayed awkwardly beneath him. Instantly a nurse was rushing over to the twin bars, but Izaya waved her off frantically. He'd caught himself—with a painful jolt of his _shoulder_ , to compliment the pain in his hip—and didn't want to be led away from the bars. 

"I'm okay...!" He forced his voice to be cheerful as he waved again to the nurse. "Just slipped a bit! I-I can keep on with this." 

And she, although with a visible reluctance, nodded and allowed it. 

Izaya persisted with the exercise until an alarm went off, signaling it was time to switch to a different type of activity. He was altogether too relieved to slump into his familiar wheelchair, and didn't try to dissuade the nurse when she moved to push him. His pelvis ached especially, and he wondered idly if he should be worried about damaging his bones while he was trying to rebuild his muscles. Deciding to do some research on that once he got home, Izaya allowed himself to relax for the duration of the wheelchair ride to the next room over. 

The cell phone he had smuggled into the facility vibrated in his pocket. 

"Yes?" He answered it, ignoring the disapproving look from the nurse. 

"Information broker. You sound a bit winded." 

"Ah, Rhoyo-san," Izaya answered good-naturedly. "Yes, well... I'm doing a bit of exercise right now, you see. Have to stay in top form." 

"That's funny, coming from a rich, wheelchair-bound kid." 

Izaya's expression soured, and he was glad his client couldn't see it. "You certainly don't think I'm the type to bite, do you?" 

There was a coarse laugh from the other end of the line. "I would have been disappointed if you did."

Izaya was aware that they had reached their destination; the nurse was watching him impatiently. "Listen, I have to... run, if you'll pardon the turn of the phrase. What was it you were calling about?" 

"The time-table on our next deal with _Taka_ has been moved back. It's going to happen three weeks from now." 

Izaya's eyebrows arched. "Really? You act like I haven't already heard. People like you _pay me_ because I keep an eye on things like that, isn't that right?" 

There was a disgruntled beat of silence, and Izaya tried not to smile too obviously. He couldn't forget the nurse standing at his shoulder. 

"Fair enough, Broker. I'm calling because I need you to make sure that that deal goes _wrong_." 

"Really? Wouldn't that be rather bad for business?" 

"Not at all," Rhoyo replied. "There are those of us within _Hibi_ that _want_ war with Taka—this stupid front of cooperation is actually costing us business, in the long-run. My bosses aren't so keen on it, sure... but they'll come around." 

"I see..." Izaya purred, now entirely unable to keep the grin from curving his lips. The tendency to put the good of a given group above even the orders of that group's leader was always an interesting twist, and a very human flaw that he had seen in this man long ago. "I'll see what I can do, Rhoyo-san." 

"Good. I'll contact you later with the details." 

"I'll look forward to it. Later." And Izaya disconnected, breathing a satisfied sigh. If this went well, it would mean—

"Cell phones aren't allowed, Sir." 

The nurse's clipped voice broke into his train of thought, and Izaya smiled meekly up at her. 

"I'm terribly sorry, kind lady. You've been such a help to me today, too... it won't happen again, I promise." 

The nurse, unfortunately, didn't seem to be falling for it. She simply held out her hand insistently, and Izaya had precious little recourse but to hand over his cell phone with a defeated sigh. 

Best he focus on the task at hand, anyway, he thought, as the nurse proceeded to push him toward an intimidating piece of equipment. 

... ... ... 

"Oh Shizu-chan, I'm exhausted...!" 

Though his initial inclination had been to play it tough, Izaya felt his resolve crumble as soon as he laid eyes on his beloved beast. Shizuo, despite the fact that Izaya was nestled securely in his wheelchair at the moment, swooped forward to bundle the smaller man into a bridal-style embrace. 

"Ah, put me down...!" Izaya objected, thumping softly at his shoulder. "I'm all sweaty and gross! And this is so undignified, Shizu! We're in public, don't you know?" 

"Shut up," was the growled response he got, and Shizuo's arms tightened around him. After an obligatory moment of struggle, Izaya allowed himself to settle happily into the other's arms. Shizuo shifted him expertly so that he was cradled in one arm, then used his free hand to pick up the abandoned wheelchair. 

"Thanks for coming to get me, Shizu-chan." 

"Of course," the blonde grunted, using his shoulder to push open the lobby door. Izaya, nestling down more comfortably over his other shoulder, enjoyed the stares of the other people in the room through sleepily narrowed eyes. "How'd it go?" 

"It went well," Izaya chirped. "Tiring, but well." 

"I'm proud of you." 

"That's a rather uncharacteristically sentiment, Shizu-chan."

The blonde grunted, but otherwise didn't respond. Izaya didn't pursue the conversation either, content to soak in the stares of people they passed and relish the feeling of being lovingly carried in strong arms. 

... ... ... 

After a long bath to clean the offensive sweat and grime from his skin, Izaya couldn't quite bring himself to move from where he'd curled up on his bed. He wasn't overly sleepy, but so physically exhausted that moving about via his wheelchair was neigh unthinkable. After a while, Shizuo came and sat silently beside him, bent over his phone. 

"Rub my back, won't you?" Izaya implored, after a moment. Shizuo glanced over at him in surprise, and the brunette rolled slightly onto his stomach, stretching his arms out in front of him. "The soreness is starting already..." 

Shizuo obediently put his phone to the side and adjusted his position on the bed, though he hesitated a beat before lowering his hands into Izaya's shoulders. The informant groaned with pleasure as he began to knead. 

"Aah... That feels heavenly...! Here..." Izaya murmured, shifting slightly; Shizuo's hands instantly stilled, in case he had done something wrong, but Izaya only wriggled until he could shed the thick robe he had put on after his bath. He shifted it down so that it was still tied loosely around his waist, but the pale flesh of his back was exposed. "That should be better... Please, do continue." 

Shizuo hesitated, brow knitting, before he resumed, his eyes wandering down the lean frame; the narrow chest expanding and contracting with breath beneath his hands. He could feel every bone beneath its silky sheath of flesh, and the steady beat of a heart when he touched the right spots. There were also ridged scars, though, that he'd never known about—they crisscrossed the information broker's skin, and he wondered if Shinra might be able to tell him the story behind each one. 

Then, just as quickly, he wondered how many of those scars had been _his_ doing. 

As if in subconscious reparation for those long-ago injuries, his movements became even more caring; he worked his way down trapezius and latissimus dorsi, using his thumbs to get at the erector spinae right beside the delicate vertebrae. Izaya occasionally shuddered or made small sounds of pleasure, small and alive beneath his hands—a fragile state of being that Shizuo distinctly remembered wanting to destroy. The bones and muscles he was currently working at would be entirely too easy to crush, purposefully or even by accident. But Izaya was totally relaxed beneath his touch, and only eased deeper into that relaxation as the minutes ticked by. 

"I said... what I said... earlier..." Shizuo mumbled, after a moment; when he paused, Izaya made a gently questioning sound. "Matching you gave me a reason to be proud of my damn strength. So I'm proud of you... that you want to get back to that." 

"I'm glad, Shizu..." Izaya breathed, his eyes closed. Shizuo almost wished they'd open, if only so he could see them; he knew he would look away instantly, awkwardly, but just a glimpse of those sorrel gems was all he really needed. It wasn't to be, though, at least for the moment. 

Even when he became aware that Izaya had fallen fast asleep, Shizuo kept up his massaging. He even, only just audibly, began to murmur loving things under his breath as the smaller man slept peacefully.

... ... ... 

Though still physically worn-out, Izaya found he was quite mentally alert later that night, thanks to his earlier nap. Shizuo had fallen into a sound sleep beside him, and he couldn't hear any movement of children throughout the rest of the house; thoughts of Ikebukuro were swirling through his head with maddening speed, so it wasn't long before he turned to his phone for distraction. He knew just the person to bother—the one Ikebukurian acquaintance he'd had contact with before Shizuo appeared. Then again, she had also fled from the city at about the same time he had.

"Hello there! Guess who? Are you surprised? Are you simply on the verge of tears? Is your heart beating unnaturally fast behind that voluptuous chest?" 

"What... the _hell_ do _you_ want at _six_ in the god damn morning?" 

"I'm flattered you picked up, my dear." Izaya shifted, keeping his voice low. Shizuo's breath remained steady beside him. "I hardly expected you to be awake. Though it's only ten here, so that's really not an unreasonable time to call..." 

"I'm about to hang up." Her words might have been menacing, had they not been interrupted by a yawn. 

"Oh please don't!" Izaya implored softly. "Don't you want to hear what I've been up to? I'd like to hear what _you're_ up to!" 

"Don't be ridiculous..." the woman murmured. "You called me to stroke your own ego, as usual."

"I'm hurt...!" Izaya chirped, rolling over onto his stomach so that chin rested on crossed arms. Shizuo growled softly in his sleep, but didn't wake. "For once it's not true, I swear!" 

"Then what—" another long yawn, "do you want, at this ungodly hour?" 

"I want to know if you'll come back to Ikebukuro." 

The woman choked on what sounded like a laugh. "Are you drunk?" 

"I'm horrified you'd think such a thing of me!" Izaya replied. "I'm being serious." 

"You don't even live in Japan anymore," she pointed out flatly. "And last I checked, you had no intention of going back there, either." 

"Things have changed," Izaya admitted. 

"What things?" 

"Shizu-chan found me." 

Again the woman choked. "And you're still _alive_?" 

"Still alive, my dear. And I've decided to go back with him to Ikebukuro." 

"So that horrid Shizuo-complex of yours finally came to something!" the girl yelped, loud enough that Izaya almost feared it would wake the blonde beside him. "Good for you! Leave me the _hell_ out of it." 

"Namie..." Izaya began imploringly, but the woman cut him off. 

"I want nothing to do with your fucked-up happily-ever-after, Izaya. You think you're the only one who had good reason to leave Ikebukuro behind?" She scoffed. "I've got some rather bitter memories of the place, myself." 

"But that doesn't matter, now," Izaya entreated. "We can go back. We can do it _right_ this time. I swear I'd be a better boss this time around, if you'd just have the faith to step back into my employ." 

"You were a fine boss," Namie retorted. "You were just a shitty person." 

"Well, I can't say _that's_ changed much..." Izaya said good-humoredly, then hurried on through Namie's exasperated sigh. "What have you got in America, really? Your research on a disembodied dullahan's head? Everyone stopped caring about that long ago." 

"You might have, but other people haven't," the woman huffed. "This is relevant research I'm working on, I'll have you know. And it isn't as if my personal interest in the head has lessened, either." 

"Namie..." Izaya cajoled, but the woman only clicked her tongue. 

"I'm not at your beck and call anymore, Izaya. Now, if that's all you called about, I'd like to get back to sleep." 

"Oh please don't hang up!" Izaya pleaded. "Tell me everything! How are you? How's your dear Seiji? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you have a cat? Are your coworkers in America interesting people? Is your boss there as enigmatic and exciting as I? Have you heard from any of our old mutual acquaintances? How's that bastard Shingen? Are you getting by alright on what they're paying you? Have you got a car? An apartment? A social life? Oh Namie Yagiri, tell me about the life you won't leave at my humble request!" 

"I'm hanging up now." 

"If you do, I'll just call back tomorrow!" 

The phone clicked loudly in Izaya's ear. 

With a sigh and a pledge to make good on his threat, Izaya set his phone down on the nightstand and settled down. As he snuggled into the mattress, making himself more comfortable, he also pressed back into the solid wall which was Shizuo lying beside him. 

The blonde grumbled something in his sleep; looped one arm instinctively around the smaller man, drawing him closer. Izaya's soft sigh became one of contentment, and he let his mind drift more peacefully to Ikebukuro as he began to sink into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long~ orz Despite my opening comment, I'm getting a better handle on where things are going... and I really can't wait to show you guys the next couple chapters!  
> Please don't forget to comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed, and drop by [the tumblr version of this fic](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/149774810153/hard-sought-chapter-9) if you're so inclined. Thank you, and see you soon!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so accomplished because of this update omg. It was a rare moment of inspiration+motivation+time all coming through simultaneously and holy hell. Magic.  
> That being said, I'm a bit nervous about the actual contents of the chapter. Some major stuff is about to go down ~~and honestly I don't think the last chapter was the best chapter of this fic?? like it was useful filler but still kind of filler?? but i think i've got my shit together in this one??~~.  
>  Thanks for sticking with me, guys~ I owe you all bits and pieces of my soul. <3

"Ow-ow-owww...! Shizu-chan, it hurts, it hurts...!" 

"Do you want me to stop?" the blonde asked; his eyes were clear and earnest, and Izaya was fairly certain he didn't realize how _hard_ he was pressing down. 

Domestic captivity was not a thing that suited Shizuo Heiwajima. He didn't have much, save for Izaya's physical therapy and household chores, to pour his efforts into. For someone as virile as him, that meant a lot of unspent and bottled up energy. Izaya had wondered if he should suggest the blonde get a job of some sort after all, but since he'd insisted so vehemently that money wasn't an issue he didn't really want to reopen that discussion. Furthermore, the chances of Shizuo causing a scene in any sort of workplace were simply too high—and in a city where he was relatively unknown, Izaya would rather keep it that way. 

But, as it was, it was common to see Shizuo pacing for minutes or hours, often in circles around the living room. He would redo chores, especially those that the kids had already attended to—not to mention the fact that he would put altogether too much strength into everyday tasks, sometimes breaking things as a result. Izaya had even caught him, just once, picking a fight with Harumi out of nothing more than sheer boredom. 

The other unfortunate result was that he was a lot rougher with Izaya himself. Though it had been nearly a month since he'd snapped in earnest, he often showed flashes of temper or violence, a thing that still frightened Izaya—understandably, although his fear had lessened after he made the connection between the behavior and the lack of stimulation. 

"Just a little less, please...!" Izaya whimpered, and the pressure on his leg eased. His chest heaved with a relieved sigh as the pain in his hip dulled. He could still feel the stretch, and it still ached, but it no longer felt like his joint was being separated. "Better... that's good, Shizu-chan, right there..." 

At the given moment, Shizuo was crouched over Izaya Orihara, pressing one of the informant's legs up as far as it would go against his chest. It was one of a dozen or so stretches the physical therapy office had instructed him to help Izaya with on days he didn't have an appointment, and he was taking the duties as seriously as ever. After the designated thirty seconds, he let the limb relax again and picked up it's counterpart, meaning to repeat the exercise. 

There was a small tap at the open bedroom door. 

"Izaya-san?" It was Harumi, unfazed by the scene before her. "Ekata-san is on the phone." 

"Bring it i-i-iiin...!" Izaya's order ended in a gasp as Shizuo proceeded to bend his limb up, informant business be damned. "Ow...! Too hard, Shizu, too hard...!" 

"This is the same amount of pressure as I was—

"Too _hard_ , Shizu-chan!" Izaya yelped, kicking out with his free leg. The blow missed entirely, and Shizuo didn't move. 

"Just bear with it. It's supposed to hurt a little, isn't it?" 

Izaya groaned and let his head fall back onto the pillow. "Right, right..." he sighed, realizing that it _wasn't_ as painful as he had thought—it had simply caught him off guard. "This is good, you're right..." Then he motioned to Harumi, who was watching impassively from the doorway. "Bring me the phone, Dear. I'll talk to her now." 

The girl nodded, then vanished out into the living room. Izaya hissed as Shizuo eased his leg down again. 

"You want to stop for a few minutes, then?" the blonde asked, but Izaya shook his head. 

"We can keep going. It's just a stupid business call." It was an _important_ business call. He had to play his cards right or the whole situation might blow up in his face. He had set up a few very unpleasant things between the two rival gangs, but he no longer wanted to play party to an urban war; he had bigger plans. But with Rhoyo now _asking_ him to ignite a skirmish... he had to be careful that he was backing the right side in things. He was still at the service of his clients, after all, as was the lot of an information broker, especially one who was currently trying to keep his business as on the up-and-up as he could manage. 

But he also couldn't bear to disappoint Shizuo by putting the exercises on hold, no matter how short a pause it was. 

"Whatever you say..." Shizuo murmured, then ordered, "Flip over onto your stomach, then, for this next one." 

Izaya obeyed, even though it was a bit of a breathy struggle, and managed to get situated just as Harumi returned with one of his cell phones. He had a habit of leaving the kids, especially Harumi, to act as receptionists while he was otherwise occupied. 

"Flat," Shizuo growled, as Izaya tried to get up onto his elbows to accept the phone. A powerful hand appeared in the small of his back, forcing him down onto the mattress and leaving him struggling to find a position he could hold the phone in. 

"Ekata-san?" His voice was a bit strained. "It's me. Is there a problem?" 

"Not that I know of, Informant," the woman replied. "But that's why I've employed you—to keep an eye on potential problems, like that Taka man Rhoyo." 

"Ah, him... yes, does seem like a bit of a live wire, doesn't he? You can never—ow, ow, owww!" Izaya trailed off with a tremendous yelping as Shizuo lifted his leg a bit too high, and the way he wrenched himself around only made it hurt more. "Warn me when you're going to do that!" 

"You're supposed to keep your knee locked," was Shizuo's grumbled retort, and Izaya spat furiously at him. 

"And _you_ aren't supposed to tear my damn hips apart, you beast!" 

"Is this... a bad time?" Ekata asked, from the near-forgotten cell phone. Izaya hissed again in frustration, trying to scrape together some semblance of dignity. 

"No, no, not at all... I was just engaged in something when you happened to call, that's all." 

"I'm going to try this again," Shizuo announced, and Izaya slammed the phone down onto the bed before snapping a response. 

"You will _not_! Wait until I get off the phone, at least!" 

"You said we could keep going," Shizuo replied critically, and Izaya gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

"Clearly I didn't anticipate how _rough_ you were going to be," he grumbled, all thoughts of disappointing the blonde long-gone as he returned the phone to his ear. "Just hold off for five minutes, would you? Can you have just that much patience without pouting like a child?" 

"If this is a bad time, I can call back," Ekata said, this time sounding a bit uncomfortable. 

"It's not a bad time," Izaya insisted with forced cheer. 

"I know what it's like to have a lover's tryst interrupted by a business call," Ekata offered. "It's uncomfortable for all parties involved, you know. I can call back." 

"It's not—! No, no, that's not it at all," Izaya tried to laugh, but he was too horrified to quite manage it. "I can see how this might be misconstrued, but that's not it at all." 

Though it was clear she didn't quite believe him, Ekata seemed to shrug and move on despite it. "Whatever you say. If you insist, then, this business about Rhoyo..." 

"Yes, yes, Rhoyo-san..." Izaya said, relieved to be back onto the topic at hand. Shizuo, true to his suspicions, was pouting at the bottom of the bed. "Unpredictable, that one." 

"This deal on Saturday is essential for stabilizing relations between our two groups," Ekata continued. "I wouldn't put it past a dissenter like him to try to disrupt it." 

"So you want me to watch him," Izaya guessed. 

"Almost. Not quite." 

"Oh?" 

"I want you to make sure he doesn't _live_ to see Saturday." 

Izaya felt a shiver run up his spine; he hadn't expected the head of Hibi to go quite that far, but he'd known the woman had a ruthless streak. Still, it put him in an even more uncomfortable position then he'd been in before. 

"I'm not really a gun for hire, Miss. With all due respect." 

"Information can kill just as surely as any gun," Ekata replied reasonably. "It shouldn't be hard to ensure someone with as many enemies as he has dies in a timely fashion." 

"Still, it's a bit beyond my job duties," Izaya tried again, and to his surprise the client agreed. 

"You're right about that, and I'm glad you brought it up. We're prepared to _triple_ your last payment, if you can come through in this matter. Additionally, you'll get paid the usual amount if you simply keep Rhoyo away from the deal on Saturday or run him out of town. Once Saturday has passed, we'll be able to take him out using more conventional means, anyway." 

"How can I say no to that?" Izaya asked, sitting up a bit straighter. He was unaccustomed to being swayed by capitol alone, but the amount he was being offered for a single job was nothing to sneeze at. It would certainly make his life a lot easier for a good while, and perhaps even last until the time came to leave for Ikebukuro. 

"You can't. Or shouldn't, rather—you're free to make whatever choices you want. We'll probably still employ you in the future, regardless of how this whole thing turns out. Unless you end up backing the other side, of course. But, as an impartial broker of information, I wouldn't... expect that of you." 

Additionally, Ekata was a smart woman. Left to figure which group to back, Izaya couldn't deny that she and her Hibi were a much better bet if stability was, for once, his goal. Rhoyo was unpredictable—Ekata was _capable_. 

"Alright. I'll do what I can, then." Izaya hung up with a soft sigh, then raised his head to meet Shizuo's gaze. The blonde had stopped his pouting, and there was earnest concern in his eyes. 

"Are you okay with this, Flea?" 

"You don't even know what 'this' is," Izaya said flippantly. Shizuo's eyes narrowed slightly. 

"You said you're not a 'gun for hire.' I heard it. What are you getting yourself into?" 

"Nothing I haven't before," Izaya replied. "I can handle myself, Shizu-chan. I wouldn't have agreed to anything if I couldn't. Besides, I haven't exactly committed myself to this job—did you hear me commit at any point, hmm?" 

"No," Shizuo admitted reluctantly. "Just that you would 'do what you can.'" 

"Exactly," Izaya purred. "I'm a bit smarter than all that, Shizu. I won't let myself be backed into a corner. Have faith." 

The blonde was silent for a moment, then shrugged and stood. "You want anything from the kitchen? I'm gonna go grab myself some water." 

"Some water would be great," Izaya replied, smiling warmly. The blonde didn't return the expression, looking troubled even as he stalked from the room. He passed Harumi at the door, although he didn't spare the girl more than a glance. 

"Is this really okay, Izaya-san?" the girl asked, padding quickly over to the bed. "Rhoyo-san already suspects you. If an attempt on his life were to go wrong, he would immediately hone in on you." 

Izaya's smile eased into something altogether more knowing; something colder. He appreciated how quick Harumi was, and how well she kept up with the current state of things. "I'm aware, Dear. And don't worry—if I do choose to move on this, nothing will go wrong. Have faith." 

"Don't try to appease me like you do him," Harumi murmured darkly, jerking her head in the direction Shizuo had vanished. Izaya felt a laugh bubble in his throat. 

"Sorry, sorry," he murmured. "I forget, you have no faith in your savior Izaya-san." 

The girl sniffed crossly, then turned. "If I tell Heiwajima-san what you're planning, he won't like it." 

"You claim to know what I'm planning, on top of it?" Izaya purred in mock surprise, and Harumi's eyes narrowed. 

"I do. You know it, too." 

"Shizu-chan probably has some idea of it, too," the informant said easily, waving her off with one hand. "Go ahead and try to shock him—it won't work." 

"If I tip Rhoyo-san off, he'll be even less pleased." 

Izaya's cheer evaporated, but his smile remained—ice cold; calculating. "You two are still too young to make it on your own. You're tied to me for at least another few years." 

"You're getting stronger," Harumi replied. "I never thought you would go through with this rehabilitation—that's why I've been playing along for the past two weeks. But now I'm sure you're serious." 

"I've been serious from the beginning," Izaya affirmed. 

"And then you're going to pack us up like belongings and move us to Ikebukuro," Harumi said, seeming to bristle as she said it. "You think I'll be content to just play house with you and Heiwajima-san forever?" 

"No," Izaya said, his expression softening despite a conscious effort to keep it hard and cool. "You'll grow up, like children do. You'll strike out on your own eventually, duplicity against me notwithstanding. You might continue to hate me, or you might not. You'll establish your own life, perhaps with Harukahito or perhaps not. You'll pursue a career, above-board or under-ground. You'll date, and maybe fall in love. You'll—"

"Stop it!" the girl cut him off with sudden ferocity. "Don't lump me in with your 'beloved humanity!' You can't destroy me like you did our parents, and I'm not just some specimen for you to observe!" 

"I never said you were," was Izaya's reply. 

Shizuo reappeared before the girl could gather herself to reply, glancing between her and Izaya. Harumi was the first to move, bowing stiffly to him and then excusing herself. Izaya sighed softly as Shizuo came farther into the room. 

"Was she bothering you?" 

"She's a kid, Shizuo," Izaya said in exasperation. "No, she wasn't 'bothering me.' If anything, I'm the one who..." 

Shizuo, sitting beside him, offered a cup of water. "You know, she told me to stay away from you—the first night they were back. She said you'd hurt me." 

Izaya snorted, but accepted the glass. "I'm not surprised. She's a good kid, trying to warn you like that." 

Shizuo grunted noncommittally, taking a long drink of his own water. Izaya took a sip of his, too, then looked over at his companion. 

"You should try to get along with her." 

" _I_ should try to get along with _her_?" the blonde growled. "She's the one who—" 

"You're the adult, Shizuo." Izaya's voice was good-natured, but his expression was serious. "Just like I'm an adult. They're children." 

"You don't act like a damn adult, either..." Shizuo muttered crossly, and Izaya had to laugh. 

"Because _that_ didn't sound childish at all, did it? Grow up, Shizu-chan. If we're going to do this right, we have to make some attempt at maturity." 

"Where'd you get the idea that maturity is all it's cracked up to be?" 

"It's one of the things our last fight taught me." 

That made Shizuo fall silent and, at long last, give a gruff chuckle. "Fine... I'll give it a shot, Flea. But only because _you're_ the one asking, got it?" 

"Got it," Izaya chirped, leaning over to press his shoulder against Shizuo's. The blonde gave a soft sigh and rested his head on the top of Izaya's. 

"I want to make this work, Izaya..." 

"I know..." Izaya breathed, then pushed gently away and stood, offering his hand to Shizuo. "Come on. Let's go out to the balcony. You could use a smoke and I could use a stretch that _isn't_ one of these stupid psychical therapy stretches." 

Shizuo nodded sullenly, then took Izaya's hand and rose; he didn't use the grip to pull himself up or put any of his weight on the informant's arm, but he still accepted the gesture. As soon as he was on his own feet, Izaya opened his arms slightly: a signal that he didn't want to get in his wheelchair, but instead wanted Shizuo to carry him. The blonde obliged, some of his agitation melting away. 

Izaya Orihara could now stand on his own, and even walk short distances without assistance. It was painful and he still preferred not to, choosing instead to be carried by Shizuo or depend on his wheelchair, but his progress was obvious. His doctors were impressed, and Shizuo Heiwajima was far more than that. Izaya himself was satisfied—not enough to stop pushing himself, but enough. 

Things were moving along. 

"I can't wait to see it again..." Izaya sighed, leaning out over the balcony railing when they reached it. He stretched one leg out behind him, flexing his foot experimentally. "Ikebukuro..." 

"Soon enough, we will..." Shizuo murmured, looking pleased as he took a long drag of his cigarette. "Then everything will be... good. Right." 

Izaya felt uncertainty squirm deep in his belly. Shizuo seemed to think that going back to Ikebukuro would solve _all_ their problems—the informant, although admittedly prone to donning similar rosy-hued glasses at certain moments, knew differently. 

"Work on it with the kids, Shizu-chan." 

The blonde didn't argue with him, simply let out a long, smokey breath. "If it's important to you, Flea..." 

There was a tap at the newly-replaced glass door, and both men turned to see the boy bouncing slightly on the other side of the threshold. Shizuo sighed and put out his cigarette before Izaya reached over to open it. 

"What're you guys doing?" Harukahito asked excitedly, hopping out onto the balcony. Shizuo didn't respond, but leaned farther out over the railing. 

"Just whiling away the hours, my boy!" Izaya told him cheerily, resting a hand on his shoulder. "When you get to be old men like us, you like to just stand around and contemplate your place in the universe." 

"You're not an old man, Izaya-san!" the boy chirped, in the catty way of a kid who knew their leg was being pulled. 

Izaya's smile softened. "I feel that way," he told the child, then turned back toward the city. Shizuo was watching him closely, but Harukahito didn't bat an eye. 

"You promised we'd play after you could walk again!" he said, tugging at the bottom of Izaya's shirt. "C'mon, Izaya-san! Let's play!" 

"I intend to keep my promise," Izaya replied levelly, then pressed one hand against the boy's forehead, "but Izaya-san isn't strong enough for that yet. Patience." 

Harukahito frowned, tugging a bit harder despite being pushed back. "You're so strong though, Izaya-san!" he appealed. "You're the strongest of all!" 

"Maybe Shizu-chan will play with you," Izaya suggested, and the blonde drew himself up in surprise. 

"Izaya..." 

"Will you play with me, Shizuo-san?" Harukahito begged, releasing Izaya's shirt and trotting up to Shizuo's side. The blonde glanced nervously between the child and Izaya, who was looking up at him with gently suggestive eyes. 

_Work on it with the kids, Shizu-chan. C'mon, I'm even letting you start with the easy one._

Understanding, Shizuo gave a defeated sigh. "What do you want to play, Harukahito-kun?" he asked, with gruffly-faked cheer. The child beamed up at him, taking his hand. 

"Let's go inside, Shizuo-san! I'll show you my toys!" 

"Do me a favor and send Harumi-chan out, won't you?" Izaya called after them. "Tell her to bring my wheelchair." 

Harukahito acknowledged the command with a wave as the door shut, and Shizuo cast one more uncertain glance back at him. Izaya smiled encouragingly before turning back out toward the city. 

_Soon... soon we'll move back to Ikebukuro, and then..._

_... it won't be perfect, not right away, but we'll work at it. We'll get there._

"Izaya-san?" 

Izaya turned to see the girl standing patiently in the glass doorway, wheelchair held out before her. Izaya nodded gratefully, pushing away from the railing and then sinking gratefully into the seat. 

"Aah... not there yet, am I...?" he murmured, rubbing absently at his aching thigh. Harumi inclined her head slightly, then turned to leave. "Stay," Izaya murmured, before she could, and the girl stilled obediently. "Come on. Close the door behind you." 

The girl hesitated a beat, then obeyed. Izaya's gaze was still turned outward toward the Mito street, although his vantage point was now lower and his vision was somewhat blocked by the railing. 

"I've decided—how I want to play this with Rhoyo and Ekata." 

Harumi's brow rose. 

"I'm going to need your help, my dear. And you can't tell Shizu, you hear?" 

"Of course," the girl said pleasantly. "What would you like me to do, Izaya-san?"

... ... ... 

"That Harukahito isn't a bad kid," Shizuo commented later that night, his body curled protectively around Izaya's. He'd expressed such things before, and the information broker chuckled.

"My request shouldn't be so hard then, should it?" 

Shizuo snorted. "I'm not saying I want to play _beigoma_ with the kid every day." 

"Tops?" 

"That's what we ended up playing today. The kid's a lot better at it than me, too." 

Izaya convulsed with laughter, though the sound itself was light and faint. "How... simply... adorable...!" 

"Shut up," Shizuo growled, his arms tightening. But he also gave a soft sigh into the back of Izaya's neck, settling down deeper into the matress they shared. "Go to sleep, now. You've got an appointment tomorrow, remember?" 

"I remember, Shizu-chan," Izaya soothed. "Good night." 

"'Night, Flea. I love you." 

"I love you, too." 

As soon as Shizuo's breathing had deepened and eased into the steady pattern of sleep, Izaya reached over eagerly to where his phone sat on his nightstand. True to his threats, he'd called Namie Yagiri every single night since their initial conversation. Whenever she didn't pick up, he'd leave multiple, increasingly irritating messages; surprisingly enough, though, she answered more times than not. 

"How was your day yesterday, Deary?" 

There was a long yawn—the calls were an alarm for her, in the morning. "Exhausting. The review board paid a visit, and we had to scramble to hide the data on the head. One of our interns almost gave the game away." 

Izaya chuckled. "Must've been terrifying." 

"Nothing we haven't been through before." The sounds of her getting up and preparing for her day were audible in the background. "And you? How was your day today?" 

"I got Shizu-chan to play nicely with Harukahito-kun!" 

"Wow. What an accomplishment." 

"Riiight? I think I'm making good progress." 

"He's basically a grown-ass kid himself, so they should get along well." 

"You'd think... But alas, child though he may be, Shizu's been more inclined to play the bully than get along, lately. He's terribly bored, though, so I can't really blame him." 

There was the thorough scouring of her toothbrush, and her next words were mumbled. "I don't remember him having many hobbies." 

"He doesn't," Izaya agreed dismally. "He's woefully unsuited to be a house-husband, I'm afraid." 

"Pity. My Seiji would make an excellent house-husband, you know." 

"I'm sure." 

Namie spat out her toothpaste loudly. "He would.' 

"I know he would, Dear. He's perfect in every way. You should come back to Ikebukuro to be closer to him." 

"Bullshit. You want me to come back and work for you." 

"It's hard to find help of your caliber," Izaya entreated. "Really, haven't I proved my investment in you with these repeated calls?" 

"I'm hanging up now." 

"I'll simply call back tomorrow!" 

"My toast is burning. Excuse me." 

"You should eat a more balanced breakfast, Namie-san!" 

There was a click, and Izaya sighed fondly. Their conversations, though frequent, were short, and as soon as Ikebukuro came up they were over. But that didn't matter, because Izaya felt he was making discernible headway on the topic anyway. Settling back into the mattress, he rolled over in the confines of Shizuo's embrace so that he was facing the ceiling. 

_Shizuo and the kids... Namie... Shinra and Celty... it's all falling into place._ He lifted his phone high above his head, then tapped out a message and hit send. The response he received made him smile. 

**「Life isn't as perfect as you think it is.」**  
《I don't think it's perfect. But if you put in the effort, you can make it yours. You can make it perfect for you.》  
「Didn't you think what you HAD in Ikebukuro was perfect? Didn't having that illusion shattered by the very man you're sleeping next to cure you of these mortal delusions?」  
《I was lying to myself before. I was lying to Shizu-chan. I was lying to everyone.》  
《I'm different, now. I have a better perspective on things.》  
「Well, I'm certainly looking forward to seeing what sort of fires you start, when you get back.」  
「You'll probably set yourself on fire too, you know.」  
「I'll be on-deck to remind you of this "different Yumcha" and his pridefully optimistic "better perspective."」  
《You're just looking forward to seeing me again, let's be honest.》  
「Still the same, Orihara—I'll bet you think EVERYONE would love to see you again, isn't that right? The return of their god?」  
「Can you hear me laughing across this digital space between us? Ha-ha-ha!」 

Izaya chuckled aloud. It had been delightful to catch someone as seemingly omniscient as Tsukumoya Shinichi with news of his planned return to Ikebukuro. 

**《If I thought that, I really would be an idiot.》**  
《I know a lot of my beloved humans will be less than thrilled. But I told you—there are things you have to work at. I love them, same as when I left—the difference is I'm finally prepared to do that work.》  
「Good for you, Yumcha. I can't wait to see how this turns out.」 

_Neither can I..._ Izaya admitted, to no one but himself. He glanced over at Shizuo's sleeping face, closed out of his phone with a weary sigh, and leaned over to kiss the blonde lightly. It didn't wake the man sleeping next to him, but when he drew back Shizuo's lips had curved up in a smile.

... ... ...

Izaya had never been fond of water. He didn't mind sunning himself beside it, and baths were an obvious exception, but actually going for a swim wasn't something that appealed. For that reason, pool therapy was one of his least favorite things about rehabilitation.

The weightless feeling, however, wasn't entirely unpleasant, and it wasn't as painful as many of the other exercise routines. 

"You're really doing remarkably well, Orihara-san," his overseeing physician said, pausing by the edge of the pool and crouching down. Izaya, from where he was nearly submerged, grinned up at him. 

"Why thank you, Dr. Akiko. I told you I was motivated, didn't I?" 

The doctor nodded. "Just be sure you aren't overdoing it." 

"I'm not!" Izaya chirped agreeably, saluting. He ducked below the water for a moment, swimming casually to the side of the pool and then surfacing a few feet from the doctor. "Actually, though, I did have a question I'd like to run by you." 

"I'll answer it if I can, of course," the doctor replied, and Izaya smiled. 

"Do you suppose I'd do myself any harm with a bit of rough-and-tumble?" 

Doctor Akiko gave him a questioning look. Then, after a moment, he cleared his throat. "Well, it would depend, I suppose... on what sort of 'rough-and-tumble' you were talking about." 

"There's a child I've promised to play with when I'm well, you see," Izaya replied cheerily. "He's getting impatient, but I'm afraid I might end up doing a bit of jumping around or something of the sort. He's rather over-enthusiastic, you see." 

The doctor's expression brightened, and then he was laughing. "I see, I see," he said graciously, then shook his head. "You should be fine, just so long as you stop if you're in any sort of pain." 

Izaya's smile widened. "Thank you, Doctor! I'll keep that duly in mind."

... ... ... 

"Shizu-chan? I have a meeting with a client tonight, and I'd like you to accompany me."

The blonde looked over in surprise, his toothbrush hanging limply from his mouth. "Eh?" 

Izaya sat calmly in the bathroom doorway, hands on the armrests of his wheelchair. "Will you, Shizu? It'll be a bit of excitement. I think it would do you some good." 

"Why don't you ask one of the brats?" Shizuo asked mistrustfully, spitting the brush out thoughtlessly into the sink. 

"This isn't the type of meeting one should bring children to," was Izaya's reply. 

Shizuo regarded him levelly. "It's dangerous, then?" 

"In a way. If things go wrong." 

"Of course I'll come," Shizuo answered, reaching over to grab the towel. He pulled too hard, though, and wrenched the hanger off the wall with a jarring crack of plaster. The metal bar hit the tile seconds later with a clatter and Shizuo, although staring at it in something like surprise, soon shrugged and dried his face as though nothing had happened. "You should let me protect you more often, at least until you're fully back on your feet." 

Izaya's lips twitched upwards. "I'm almost there, Shizu-chan. Then what excuse will you have for disliking my work?" 

"You're a manipulative bastard who plays with people's lives and sells secrets for a living," Shizuo growled in response. "I don't need an excuse to hate that part about you." 

Though Izaya wilted slightly in his wheelchair, he turned back toward the bedroom. "Well, I'm glad to have you along anyway. The meeting is at seven o'clock, so please be ready to leave around six-thirty." 

"Will do," Shizuo mumbled. 

"Wear something presentable!" Izaya added, over his shoulder. That didn't get a response, but Izaya couldn't stop smiling as he laid out the familiar bartender's clothes on the bed they shared.

... ... ... 

He'd had Harumi arrange the meeting, but Shizuo was the one he brought along. Izaya Orihara, true to form, was betting everything on the dependable nature of humanity—even in a scenario where two of the key players were a monster and a notoriously unpredictable criminal.

"Orihara-san. It's unusual for you to want to meet in person." 

"Today's update called for something special!" Izaya announced, spreading his arms wide. The red-haired man standing across from him didn't bite. 

"Have you got Saturday all set up? The deal _will_ fail, correct? Or did you call me here just to tell me that _you've_ failed, despite your boasting?" 

"I haven't failed at all," Izaya purred, feeling Shizuo prickle with tension beside him. The client hadn't taken serious notice of him yet. Little wonder, considering how entirely unassuming a person he appeared to be—thin, dressed in clothes indicative of the service industry, and with hair that was beginning to lose it's trademark golden color. The park they had met in, besides, was deserted; it might seem wise to keep watch for concealed dangers and sneak attacks, as opposed to pay attention to what was in plain sight: the mellow-looking fellow who was quite probably a live-in nurse or servant for the information broker. "There's just been a change in plans." 

Rhoyo stiffened visibly; he might be just a bit sharp, after all. 

"You see," Izaya began, "I've been in touch with Ekata-san of Hibi, to keep better tabs on their activities. And, as I was making preparations to do as you requested, I was approached by her with a commission that's outside my usual realm of expertise. She asked me, you see, to kill you, and offered me quite an impressive bit of money to see it through." 

"You double-crossing bastard..." Rhoyo growled, but Izaya held up his hands. 

"Obviously I'm _here_ , telling you this, because I _don't_ intend to double-cross you," he said calmly. "Let's try not to jump to conclusions. Killing my precious humans, with my own hands or otherwise, really isn't my style. But I do have a proposal for you." 

"Eh?" The gangster made an impressively ugly face, and Izaya could practically hear Shizuo's teeth grinding. It was just the sort of thing that irritated the blonde. 

"We'll fake your death!" Izaya announced. "If not that, you know, Ekata-san gave me the option of simply running you out of town. If I infiltrate Hibi further, under these sorts of pretenses, and gain Ekata's trust, I can provide you with even more valuable intel. If what you think about this alliance with Hibi is true, Taka will spiral downward in your absence. With that sort of setup, it would be child's play for you to stage a triumphant return to Mito, crush Hibi more completely than you could have dreamed of, and claim leadership of whatever remains of Taka—rebuild it in your own image and rule this city." 

Izaya Orihara, true to form, had contingencies for any answer the man Rhoyo could give him. He had a strong preference for one, however, and was almost inconceivably delighted when... 

"Out of the question." 

"Hmm?" Izaya played at innocence in the face of the man's rage. "I think it's a pretty good idea, myself.' 

"Abandon Taka?" Rhoyo demanded, taking an aggressive step forward; Shizuo tensed. "You've never belonged to a gang, have you?" 

"A color gang—or rather, a colorless gang, once," Izaya replied. "But that was a long time ago." 

"You don't have a scrap of loyalty in you, do you?" the man shouted, ignoring Izaya's strange statement. "I won't play dead and then show back up when things are at their worst—I'll _stop_ that worse from every coming, by fighting back Hibi with everything I've got! And if you're telling me you won't help me do that—" 

"I'm telling you _how best_ to do that," Izaya said, with mock weariness. "You're being a bit shortsighted, if you'll forgive me for saying so." 

"'Shortsighted?'" Now Rhoyo's anger was building—his face reddening to match his hair. Izaya could feel a similar thing happening with the blonde beside him, but forced himself not to look over at Shizuo. 

"Very," he replied easily. "You know, you're just one man—you don't represent your group like Ekata-san represents hers. I'm going out on a bit of a thin limb, offering to back you instead of her." 

That did it. Rhoyo _broke_ , just as Izaya had made many of his beloved humans break. The colorful emotion that rushed out of the shattered facade was fury, and the handgun whipped out from it's place of concealment became the physical manifestation of his humanity. 

"I won't stand here and let you talk down to me, let alone back out of the deal we—!" Rhoyo began, but the creak of rusted metal and tortured moan of bedrock interrupted him. An entirely average park bench was being mysteriously uprooted, and at the hands of— 

Rhoyo barely had time to comprehend the terrifying look on the blonde's face; the incredible, inhuman strength rippling along the lean muscle that covered his body from head to toe as he wrenched the wrought-iron up from the ground and flung it. He didn't even have time to scream as he was crushed beneath the unlikely projectile, vision flashing white just briefly before his senses went dead. 

"Well done, Shizu!" Izaya immediately exclaimed, with a single clap of his hands. "As expect—" 

A fist flung with all the force of instinctual rage behind it; the crash of splintering metal upon impact; a lithe body sent flying through the air. It was so evocative of one long ago high-school meeting that one could almost here Shinra's cheerful introductions carried on the wind. 

The information broker's feet were steady, but his legs shuddered with even the slight impact of his landing. 

"Iii-zaa-yaaa..." came the well-worn snarl; the familiar flash of anger in his steely eyes. "I came here to protect you, and that's it. I'm not one of your god damn game-pieces, you got that?" His hand clenched into a fist, the muscles in his arm and shoulder preparing to hurl it forward once again. "Now I'm gonna..." 

Exactly what he was about to say, while the meaning was fairly obvious, would never be known; even as he growled the beginning of the sentence, his expression began to clear. As he blinked, Izaya gave a soft cry of relief and allowed his weary, trembling legs to crumple beneath him; he hit the grassy turf with a soft _thunk_. 

"That's it...!" he exclaimed softly, then gave a sobbing little laugh and spread his arms. "Come pick me up, Shizuo. Aah, I don't think I can walk at all after that one!" 

But Shizuo only took a horrified step backwards, his wide eyes flashing from Izaya to the mangled wheelchair to his own fist and then back to Izaya. "If that... had connected..." he mumbled. 

Izaya only shook his head, a delighted smile on his face. "But it didn't, Shizuo! Don't you see? _It didn't connect_!" 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Shizuo's yelp was strangled, and he stumbled backwards with enough haste to trip and thud roughly to the ground as well. 

They were both left sitting, all at once gazing at each other from the same level. 

"It didn't connect," Izaya repeated joyfully. "You can stop trying to hold back so much, Shizu, and I can stop feeling so afraid! We're nearly there! If I can dodge one of your punches...! Ha! We're almost there, Shizuo!" 

"Did you... do this on purpose...?" Shizuo asked softly. "Is _this_ why you brought me along?" 

"Capturing Rhoyo-san is certainly a fabulous little accomplishment," Izaya said easily, "and that might even have been my primary goal, but... I'll admit, this was certainly something I may or may not have anticipated." 

"You _wanted_ me to snap?" Shizuo asked, without anger or curiosity—only shock. Then he sprang back up, shaking from head to toe as he pointed at the destroyed wheelchair. "What would have happened if that would have connected?! Do you have any idea, you stupid, selfish, shortsighted _flea_ , what would have happened if that had connected?!" 

"But it didn't," Izaya repeated smugly; Shizuo swung his fist sideways, slamming into a tree and blowing an impressive hole in the trunk. It wasn't a display Izaya had expected, and his smile faltered. 

"What if I hadn't calmed down when I had?" the blonde demanded, his voice dangerously soft. "What if I had lost it sooner than you expected? What if I hadn't gone for Rhoyo at all, but I'd gone for you instead?" 

"You wouldn't have done that..." Izaya said appealingly, but Shizuo seemed less certain. 

"I don't know _what_ I'm capable of, damn it. And neither do you. I thought I'd never try to hurt you again, and here we are." 

Izaya swallowed. He'd expected confusion and perhaps a _bit_ of anger, but he'd assumed Shizuo would see things the same way he did, after he explained. "But Shizu-chan, don't you see?" he tried again. "This is how it's always been. You punch, I dodge. You throw things, and I—" 

"That's not what it's like anymore, though!" Shizuo cut him off furiously, then turned away and knotted his fingers in his ratty, duel-color locks. "Shit. Shit! God damn it, I need a smoke..." He fumbled with shaking hands in his vest until he found a crushed cigarette and his lighter, then paced farther away from where Izaya still sat as he smoked it. 

"... Shizu...?" The informant, feeling distinctly abandoned, tried briefly to get up. But it was much harder to get up from the ground than it was to get up from a chair or the bed, and his legs felt shockingly weak on top of those difficulties. So, finding himself quite unable to rise, he crawled a few awkward feet across the turf. "Shizuo, talk to me. I thought you would—" 

"What? You thought I would _what_?" Shizuo grumbled. "You thought I'd be _glad_ that I took a swing at you? You thought I would want to go back to those days? That's not why we're going back to Ikebukuro, you stupid flea. Our relationship isn't what it used to be, and god damn it—it never will, not if I have any say in the matter. But now, _of course_ , I don't even _know_ if I have any say in the matter. I just attacked you—how the hell am I supposed to trust myself holding you close at night when I just tried to _kill you_? ... Just like back then..." 

"I just thought you'd be relieved that we're getting back to equal footing," Izaya said appealingly—desperately. "We were always equals... before. You know. We didn't have to hold back or... or put up a front around each other. Didn't you enjoy that? I did..." 

"I did, Izaya," Shizuo admitted. "And being equals is one thing. Yeah, I'd be happy to get back to that. But I _lost control_ just now. That's not something to play around with. 

"... This isn't some kid's game, Izaya. This is our _life_ together." 

Izaya hung his head, feeling unexpected sobs shake his shoulders. "I'm sorry..." was all he could whisper, then. There was the crunch of shoes over grass, and then Shizuo was kneeling beside him. 

"I'm so fucking proud that you dodged that punch," he murmured, brushing back Izaya's hair to kiss his forehead. "I'm so glad, too." Then he straightened and put distance between them, pulling out his cellphone. "I'm gonna call the kids to bring your spare wheelchair, okay?" 

"Okay, Shizu..." Izaya murmured, choking on his plea to simply be carried. But when Shizuo had touched him a moment before, he had felt how hard the blonde was shaking. 

It would have been a cruel request, and he had been cruel enough for the day.

... ... ... 

"Come to bed, Shizuo. Please."

Izaya didn't care if he was being cruel again. He just wanted to have his earlier mistake erased. 

Two silent faces peered out from the darkness of the guest room, but Izaya stood still in the doorway of his own bedroom. Shizuo lay curled, swathed in a spare blanket and with his back turned, on his chair. 

"Shizuo, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Shizuo. I just wanted to prove that neither of us had to be afraid anymore, that's all." 

"Stop apologizing," the blonde murmured. "I'm not mad at you. I'm not punishing you. I just don't trust myself, alright? It's me, not you. Got it? Go back to sleep." 

"I can't," Izaya replied, a bit afraid that he would fall if he tried to push away from the wall. "You clearly can't either." 

"That doesn't matter..." Shizuo mumbled. "It's better this way. You're safer this way. Nothing's changed, okay? I love you. I'm not leaving or anything stupid like that. I just don't trust myself being that close to you." 

"How long have we been living together like this?" Izaya implored. "Nothing bad's happened. Y-You haven't hurt me, not once." 

"I got too confident. I thought I would never try to hurt you again, so I let my guard down. And I ended up trying to hurt you." 

"I made you do it! It was my fault, Shizu-chan!" 

"It wasn't your fault, Izaya. You are who you are. My actions are my own responsibility—always have been and always will be." 

Izaya shook his head violently. "And I've always been the one you don't have to be afraid of hurting!" 

"Bull." 

"It's true!" Izaya insisted, taking a step forward. His legs felt weak and unsteady, but he pressed on across the room until he was forced to stop for a moment, sagging against his desk. "And you're supposed to be the one who doesn't fall for my lies! You're the one who's supposed to see through my defenses and stupid schemes!" 

"Well I fell for them today," Shizuo murmured. " _And_ I almost hurt you today. Where does that leave your theory?" 

Izaya felt frustration well up inside him, and before he knew it he had strode across the rest of the empty space separating them. His legs only lasted that far, though, and he leaned heavily against the arm of Shizuo's chair; the blonde stiffened beneath his blanket. 

"You dumb oaf..." Izaya muttered, hot tears stinging the backs of his eyes. "Do you _honestly_ think that _this_ is the solution, then? You said you aren't leaving, but isn't this just another kind of running away?" 

"That's rich, coming from a coward like you." 

Izaya's frustration boiled over into indignation, and he heaved himself up over the arm of the chair to crawl bodily onto Shizuo. The blonde gave a gruff exclamation of surprise, flailing a bit and momentarily trying to shove his assailant off, but Izaya persisted. Shizuo could only groan with frustration as the informant settled in against his chest. 

"This defeats the damn purpose of me sleeping out here, Flea...! Get off me, damn it...!" 

"You're not snapping now," Izaya asserted, kissing first Shizuo's chin and then his cheek. The blonde made an agitated, bestial noise at the assault. "You're not snapping now. What does that tell you?" 

"Noth—" Shizuo began, but cut himself off with a growl as his nose too was kissed. 

"We have to work at this, but we can't try _so_ hard that we're afraid to make mistakes...!" Izaya insisted. "I fucked up today—badly. But so did you. Two days from now, I'll fuck up again. And a week from now, it'll be your turn. That's what people in relationships _do_ —I-I've seen it! Sometimes people are so scared of losing each other that they stop being themselves, but we'll never do that. We don't have to be afraid of anything." 

"You're not making sense, Flea..." Shizuo grumbled, but then fell silent. Then, slowly, his arms closed around Izaya's frame, so lightly that their pressure could hardly be felt. "How's this...?" 

"Too cautious, Shizuo..." Izaya murmured, nipping at the blonde's chin. "I'm not that fragile. Just hold me normally." 

"But _I'm_ not normal," Shizuo objected. "How the hell am I suppose to—" 

"I'm not normal either, Shizuo," Izaya asserted. "Neither of us ever were, if you'll remember. Hold me like Shizuo Heiwajima holds Izaya Orihara—normally for us, you know. That's all." 

There were a few tremulous heartbeats where Shizuo didn't move; didn't utter a sound or breathe. And then, just as Izaya was fishing desperately for another appeal, his arms tightened powerfully and protectively—that tender embrace that held just the slightest threat of broken bones. Izaya gasped with surprise and delight at the sensation, then shuddered with relief as he let his head rest on Shizuo's chest. 

"How's this?" the blonde rumbled beneath him. "... Honestly?" 

"It's perfect, Shizu-chan. _We're_ perfect, if we just work at it a bit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! Please do leave comments or kudos (or a note on [the tumblr version](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/149920707388/hard-sought-chapter-10)) if you're so moved! Honestly, they give me life. Constructive crit and general thoughts always welcome! See you guys again very soon in the next chapter~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEVER FEAR, I'M NOT DEAD. 
> 
> I'm sorry the update took so long. ^^;; It's also pretty short, but standard for earlier chapters of this fic, so... 
> 
> Those of you who follow me on tumblr may know that I'm doing the school thing right now, as well as pouring a lot of energy into an original fiction project I'm working on. So unfortunately updates will probably be slower than usual, and for that I am deeply sorry. But please rest assured that updates will come, and I sincerely hope you'll stick with me! Thank you for your readership, lovely comments, and kudos! They keep me going, honestly. 
> 
> Without further ado, onto Chapter 11 (also, the Holy-Hell-is-this-a-Family-AU-in-Disguise-Send-Help chapter)!

For three nights, Shizuo tried to sleep on the chair. For three nights, Izaya followed him out and curled up on his chest or by his side. On the fourth night, Shizuo returned to the bed. Rhoyo, after a couple days of being tied up in the closet of the guest room, agreed to leave town peacefully. Izaya closed the business deal with Akiko and Hibi. 

Everything was once again on track. 

Izaya crouched agilely atop an iron bar, hands gripping the metal and legs folded up beneath him. He was eyeing his next step, and launched himself suddenly forward. 

"Oof...!" he huffed exaggeratedly, rolling head over heals across the wooden bridge on the jungle-gym. Harukahito yelped with excitement as he skidded to a halt beside him. 

"This is called parkour," Izaya explained to him. "Agility—the goal is to get from one point to another as fast as possible, using nothing but your own body. The discipline was conceived and honed in an urban environment, so you'll rarely seen it used outside of cities." 

"Wow!" the boy exclaimed, wide eyes shining. "And Izaya-san can do it?" 

"Izaya-san can do it," the informant answered brightly. "I'll teach you too, Harukahito-kun! Here, grab hold of this ledge beside me... see? Brace your feet against the wall like... like... right, there, now keep a good grip on it. Now..." with a tremendous heave, Izaya pulled his body over the edge of the playground equipment, flipping over once and then twice before he landed, legs crumpling under him as he broke his fall with an effortless roll across the sand. "Try that!" 

Harukahito obeyed without hesitation, although he gave a cry of alarm as he tumbled over the edge. Izaya lurched to catch him, bundling the boy into a tight embrace and then once again rolling across the sand. 

"You'll get it in no time!" he chuckled, and Harukahito beamed up at him in excitement. "But you've got to work on your landing skills." 

"Show me another move!" Harukahito begged, and Izaya heaved himself to his feet with an effort. He stumbled a bit on his way over to the jungle-gym, but as soon as he reached it he was able to steady himself. He pulled himself up onto the child-sized rock wall built along one side of the structure, motioning for Harukahito to follow him. 

"Try this," he urged, offering a hand to the boy. But even as he helped Harukahito up, he relied heavily on the strength of his upper body to keep himself anchored. The boy scrambled; as soon as he was totally on the wall, Izaya used powerful shoulders to launch himself upward. The child gasped in surprise and awe. 

"C'mon, keep up!" Izaya urged cheerfully, as Harukahito struggled to follow. Though Izaya's largely quadrupedal lope across the top of the jungle-gym might have impressed the casual observe—as it did Harukahito—anyone who was paying close attention could tell he was trying hard to keep weight off his legs. 

"Should he really be up and about like this?" Harumi asked dryly, from where she sat on a park bench. Shizuo, sitting beside her, shrugged. 

"He looks happy, doesn't he? And Harukahito, too..." 

The girl didn't reply, somewhat confused by this version of Izaya Orihara. She had always assumed he gauged things entirely in potential value to his own ends, but the simple fact was he already had Harukahito eating out of the palm of his hand. There was no need to invest such time in his relationship with her friend, and it confused the mistrustful girl. 

"I'll be right back," Shizuo said abruptly, and Harumi spared him a glance. "Watch the stuff." 

"Sure," she replied easily, but he had already dashed away. It was part of her function to look after Izaya's things, anyway. The abandoned wheelchair sat beside her, at the end of the bench. 

_You belong... trapped there. Someone like you.... doesn't deserve to walk.... or even live._

Yet as she watched the interactions between the object of her hatred and her dear Harukahito on the playground, she felt a shiver of uncertainty. Izaya seemed to be glowing—it wasn't an expression he wore with clients, or even when he was alone or bragging about his plans. It was a smile he showed only to Harukahito and Shizuo Heiwajima... and her, if Harumi let herself admit it. 

"Here. You like ice cream, kid?" 

The girl looked up in surprise to see Shizuo offering her a cone topped liberally with chocolate ice cream. He held an equally-overloaded cone in his other hand. "I saw the vendor, so..." 

_He ran off like that... to get ice cream...?_ Harumi reflected idly, even as she accepted the treat. _He really is... a child._ The frozen dessert was sweet and cool on her tongue, and she shivered slightly with pleasure. _No wonder it's so easy to goad him..._

"Are you still looking for your chance?" Shizuo asked gently. 

The girl glanced sideways at him; didn't reply. 

Shizuo lapped at his ice cream for a moment more before speaking again. "Are you trying to stop us from going to Ikebukuro? Or are you just going to keep biding your time, even after we move?" 

Harumi shrugged; if he was going to be this frank, there was no harm in humoring him. "I haven't decided. Harukahito and I will have to survive on our own, after he's gone. We can't do that now, at least not here. But maybe I'll figure it out once we get to Ikebukuro." 

"You don't want to end up on the street," Shizuo pointed out helpfully, taking an aggressive bite of his ice cream and then cursing at how cold it was. 

Harumi ate away at hers more casually. "We won't. I know how to wring some resources out of Izaya-san before he's gone. I've heard there's an impressive colony of illegals living in 'Bukuro; maybe we'll stay with them until we're old enough to live on our own. Or we could pose as students—there are students as young as thirteen living on their own there." 

"You've thought it out," Shizuo commented. 

"Of course." The girl hesitated, then admitted, "I've learned a lot by watching Izaya-san. When I make my move, it'll be his own techniques that destroy him." 

Shizuo nodded thoughtfully. "To tell the truth, I really like the sound of that." When the girl looked over at him in surprise, Shizuo laughed. "I've told you, Izaya and I were enemies for a long time. I still think he deserves whatever comes out of the woodwork to bite him in the ass." 

"But you'll try to protect him," Harumi coaxed, and was surprised again when the blonde shrugged and mumbled something noncommittal; he lapped some drizzled ice cream off the back of one of his hands before elaborating. 

"Depends. If his life is in danger, yeah, of course. But the people he's hurt deserve their shot at him. I've already settled my score, but there are lots of people who haven't. So maybe I wouldn't stop him from getting punched in the face, under certain circumstances." 

Harumi stared at him for a moment in shock, aware of a cool drip traveling down her wrist. When she'd gotten her composure, she wiped it absently on her slacks. 

"And you claim to love him?" 

"Like I said, of course I'd step in if he was in serious danger," Shizuo replied, then paused. "I don't know... maybe I'd act differently in the moment anyway. I might just protect him automatically. But he's pretty capable of taking care of himself, too. He might even _choose_ to take a punch from certain people at this point, and there's some... nobility, I guess, to accepting the consequences of your actions. He's really trying to turn over a new leaf, you know. He was never like that, before." 

"How do you know it's not just a phase?" Harumi asked softly. "Even if he's 'really trying' right now, how do you know it'll last? People like him... they sometimes lose interest when things get tough." 

Shizuo nodded, although he gulped a chunk of ice cream that was threatening to fall before answering. Before he could, both their attentions were drawn by a yelp from the playground. 

Harukahito, it appeared, had lost his grip on the monkey bars; Izaya was hanging precariously by one hand, the other looped around the boy's chest, and after a moment they both fell with a _thunk_ and puff of sand. But both of them were also laughing, and exchanged cheerful words that were inaudible at that distance before Harukahito helped Izaya to his feet. 

"I would agree," Shizuo began, even as he rose. "I would... I would think he was that type of person. He _is_ that type of person. But things have already gotten tough, I think, and he hasn't..." The blonde trailed off; made a helpless motion with his free hand. Izaya looked like he was having trouble, even with a hand on Harukahito's shoulder as they made their way back across the sand. Shizuo abandoned the conversation, then, shoving what was left of his ice cream cone into his mouth and trotting over to help. Harumi, staring after him thoughtfully, also rose to get their things ready. 

"You guys got ice cream?" Harukahito exclaimed, racing ahead once Shizuo had scooped Izaya up off his feet. The girl nodded. 

"You can finish mine," she offered, passing it over and then taking up a position of readiness behind Izaya's wheelchair. When the two adults reached them, Shizuo put Izaya gently down in the seat. 

"Thank you, Shizu..." Izaya purred, holding the blonde close for another moment and kissing him sweetly. Harukahito made a face and laughed, but Harumi watched the interaction carefully. 

_Is this... really..._

"Homeward!" Izaya announced happily, with a grand motion that was vaguely in the direction of their apartment. Harumi obeyed seriously, but Harukahito echoed up the cheer. Izaya, grinning, joined in, until they were both chanting, "Homeward! Homeward! Homeward!" in unison. 

Shizuo didn't look entirely amused—that, if anything, made Harumi begin to smile. 

... ... ... 

"Shin-occhan! Good afternoon!" Harukahito waved wildly, leaning across Izaya's lap to get closer to the webcam. "Celty-oneesama, good afternoon!" 

"Hey, Celty; Shin-chan," Izaya greeted them more calmly, and the doctor threw up his hands. 

"I just don't get _any_ respect, is that it? Okay, okay, I see how it is...!" 

"Everything is good here," Celty responded, ignoring his theatrics. "Kadota-kun came over to visit, earlier." 

"Aah, he's one I can't wait to see again!" Izaya exclaimed. "The look on his face... will be... _priceless_!" 

"He'll threaten to go back into his coma, I'll bet," Shinra said authoritatively, nodding. 

Izaya laughed. "That sounds like him." 

"Hey, move that damn contraption," Shizuo grumbled, arriving at his shoulder with trays of food in-hand. Harumi was at his side, helpfully, with other table-settings. 

"Right, right..." Izaya murmured, then rose with the laptop. It was a risk, during a live video-call, but Izaya felt relatively sure of himself. He placed the computer at the empty side of the table, facing inward; the two children sat smushed at one side, while Shizuo and Izaya settled in at the remaining two with a small hotpot set up between them all. 

"I can't set up anything too big on this side," Shinra lamented. "It's just Celty and I here, you know, and of the two of us there's only one capable of eating!" 

"Doesn't matter," Izaya said easily, relieved to be seated again. "We'll be there in person soon, anyway. Then we can share a hot pot properly." 

"Are you going to take off your helmet when we meet you in person, Celty-oneesama?" Harukahito asked, dishing himself some rice and chicken. 

"If you'd like," the dullahan replied. "Of course, Harukahito-kun." 

Izaya tucked into his food as the child and the Headless Rider chatted idly, Shinra chiming in often. Harumi watched her guardian closely and Shizuo, across the table from her, chewed his way absently through his own food while he watched the girl. 

Izaya's face was something to behold, his smile so tender and honest and _candid_ , and Harumi couldn't figure out what might be behind it. Shizuo, watching her try and fail to dissect his motives, couldn't help but chuckle into his chopsticks. He caught Shinra's eye, through the webcam, and an amused understanding passed between them.

... ... ... 

"There was no ulterior motive."

Harumi glared quietly at him, her hands buried in soapy water. Shizuo put the dish he was drying away in the cabinet. 

"Shinra is his friend—he'll back me up," Shizuo continued. "Izaya was happy tonight. You should try to be happy, too." 

Harumi didn't react other than to glower more severely, handing him the next clean dish. 

"Or you can strike out on your own, if you want." 

The girl's eyes widened sharply, and she looked up at him; Shizuo's gaze were fixed thoughtfully on the cabinet as he stacked the plates. 

"Hot pot uses so many dishes... I wish Izaya wouldn't insist on them so often." 

"Don't just change the subject after saying something like that!" Harumi snapped; Shizuo looked at her, unimpressed. 

"It isn't as though we were having a conversation. I was talking and you weren't. I didn't even know if you were listening, not for sure." 

"Th-That's not the point!" the girl fumed. "You know we can't just—" 

"What's stopping you?" Shizuo cut her off, taking the plate she was holding gently and proceeding to dry it. "You're a capable kid. You could manage." 

Harumi's face reddened. "I have other plans. I told you, I'll use Izaya—" 

"I know," Shizuo interrupted again, calmly. "You did tell me. This morning. So if you're set on seeing that through, stop complaining. Roll with the punches and see your plans through." 

Harumi's nose scrunched. "Stupid," she scoffed. "You don't know what it's like to be _stuck_ leeching off a man like him." 

"Then un-stick yourself," Shizuo said simply. " _Don't_ see your plans through, or do. But you should consider the fact that the situation _has_ changed." 

"It's changed because of _you_ ," Harumi hissed. 

"I know. I don't regret changing it." 

"Go die!" the girl sniffed, turning away and drying her hands. "Finish the dishes before you do, though." 

Shizuo watched her with a vaguely annoyed look. "Izaya did some horrible things to you, but haven't you noticed he's been trying to make up for it? Even before I showed up, I'll bet." 

"You're imagining things." 

"He takes care of you." 

"He _uses_ us." 

"He could hire people a lot more easily." 

"Yeah, and then he'd have to pay them," Harumi quipped. "He's too cheep for that. We're low-risk, free labor to him, that's all." 

"'Free labor?'" Shizuo echoed, then gave a short laugh. "Are you saying you don't eat? That you haven't been to the doctor since he took you in? That you came with all your clothes? And your cell phones? Are you saying that if you need something, Izaya doesn't buy it for you?" 

"Wh-What else is he supposed to do?" Harumi spluttered. "That doesn't prove anything! That's just the bare minimum—" 

"Bare minimum, nothing!" Shizuo scoffed. "I know how he does things. He probably spoils you both rotten, where material things are concerned." 

"So what?" Harumi spat back. "It isn't as if he doesn't have the money to spare!" 

"Well, there goes your argument about 'free labor,'" Shizuo observed, leaning against the counter. "Kids are way more expensive than hired help." 

"We aren't his kids," Harumi hissed. 

"You may as well be, with how he behaves. That's how he shows affection, by the way—by just casually, kind of secretly looking out for people. That's another thing you should ask Shinra about. He knows more about that side of Izaya than I do. Or his sisters—he does the same thing with them." 

"Go to hell," Harumi retorted, and Shizuo let out a heavy breath through his nose. 

"Jeez, kid... no getting through to you, is there?" 

"Just finish the dishes," the girl huffed, stalking quickly from the kitchen. But Shizuo, watching her go, was certain he'd at least given her something to think about. 

_If those two do come to Ikebukuro with us... and her attitude hasn't changed by then... we could be in for some trouble._

"Nice job, not snapping." 

Shizuo groaned. "How the hell long have you been listening?" 

"I don't like hearing my secret methods of showing affection described behind my back, Shizu-chan," Izaya said playfully, moving his wheelchair slightly into the kitchen. "It's shameful to be outed in such a way." 

"She needs to realize certain things—like the fact that you _do_ care." 

Izaya gave a put-upon sigh. "But they're _secret_ methods of caring, obviously..." 

Shizuo's hand flashed from beneath the sink water, spraying Izaya with droplets and suds. The information broker spluttered an objection, gasping about how he'd just gotten out of the bath and didn't need a shower on top of it. 

And Harumi, listening from the other side of the door frame, wondered if she'd just heard an admission from Izaya's own lips that he did, indeed, _care_. 

... ... ... 

"Let's set a moving date, Shizu." 

The blonde grunted with surprise, flexing his shoulders in an attempt to get comfortable. "Why this all of a sudden, Flea?" 

"Because I want to go back." 

It was dark—almost too dark to see anything, with shades drawn and lights off and door closed. But Shizuo, when he opened his eyes, could barely make out the shape of Izaya's tousled hair. The weight on his chest, besides, gave him a very clear idea of where the information broker had chosen to lie. With a heavy sigh that moved Izaya up and then down, he let his head drop back onto his pillow. 

"There's no need to rush it." 

"I don't think we are. The doctor at physical therapy says I should be close to a hundred percent in a month or so." 

"'Close to,'" Shizuo echoed, unconvinced. 

"I love you, Shizu-chan." Izaya kissed his collar bone, even as the blonde beneath him stiffened. "I love you. Please say you'll come with me. Please say you'll come with me, even as soon as next month." His hands worked quietly at the buttons of Shizuo's nightshirt, and then his mouth made it's way from collar bone down to sternum. "Say you'll come with me, my beloved monster." 

Shizuo sucked in a breath. "That's not fucking fair..." he muttered, closing his eyes tightly. "You already know the answer to that, you damn flea..." His back arched as Izaya nipped a sensitive spot, and he muttered a curse as he flipped their positions, pinning the smaller man to the bed. 

"Kiss me, Shizu," Izaya invited, wrapping legs that were much stronger than they had been around Shizuo's hips. "Kiss me, but nothing more. That'll wait until we're back in Ikebukuro, understand?" 

Shizuo gave an exasperated growl, even as he took full advantage of Izaya's invitation. "You don't play fair, god damn it..." he grumbled, mouth moving hungrily against Izaya's. 

"Next month," Izaya murmured, though it was muffled by the grinding of tongues against one another. 

"The first," Shizuo grunted. 

Izaya chuckled, the sound vanishing down Shizuo's throat. "How about the twentieth?" 

Shizuo lacked either the breath or the motivation to answer, grinding his body more harshly against Izaya's and making the information broker laugh as he was pushed farther into the mattress. His head was light for want of air, but he only kissed back more fervently; more lovingly. When at last they broke apart, both of them were gasping raggedly. 

"Can I do it again?" Shizuo growled softly, his voice strained and his breath hot against Izaya's cheek. Izaya rolled his eyes. 

"One more time. I swear, I'm going to spoil you rott—" 

Shizuo's kiss was sweeter, this time—slow and tender; deliberate, and so sensual that Izaya arched involuntarily against him, eyes closing as he moaned into the kiss. For a wild moment he entertained throwing out his previous proposal entirely, but then smiled against Shizuo's pliable mouth. 

"When we get back to Ikebukuro..." he whispered, and Shizuo nipped his lower lip in response. 

"I love you, Izaya..." 

"And I you, my dear Shizu-chan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm thinking two or three more chapters for this fic? And honestly I'm _so excited_ for them! Thank you guys so, so much for your support up until now, and as always I hope you'll leave thoughts, reactions, critique, etc. in the form of a comment! Kudos and notes on [the tumblr version](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/151772887603/hard-sought-chapter-11) are also so appreciated! See you (hopefully) soon in the next chapter~

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be out soon! Comments and kudos mean the world to me! Notes on the [tumblr version](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/142448752058/hard-sought-chapter-1) are also very, very much appreciated! Thanks for your readership, and I'll see you in the next chapter~


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